Games People Play
by teacandles
Summary: Blaine's task was simple: seduce the new kid, get him to fall in love, sleep with him, then dump him like yesterday's garbage.
1. Chapter 1

Author's notes: So I shouldn't be starting a new story when I've got other unfinished ones floating around (almost done with the first part of the sequel for _Visions_, so hopefully that's worth the wait), but this is a scenario I really wanted to try out. What can I say? I'm a sucker for bet stories. Hopefully updates will be fast and doing this will help get my butt back in gear in terms of writing. Please note that this is an AU; there will be similarities to canon, but overall it really won't be the same. Also, this title is awful. As are many of the Warbler names I had to come up with. I apologize. I'm not very good at naming things.

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><p>Middle-of-the-year transfers were nothing new at Dalton Academy. Unusual? Sure, but they did happen every couple of years. But in a close-knit school like Dalton, it was always exciting trying to figure out who the new kid was, and once the rumors began to fly about the boy moving into room 238, hardly anything productive was getting done in any of the clubs. This was a perfect opportunity to gain a new member, and no one knew much of anything about the new kid. Speculation ran wild.<p>

The transfer, Kurt Hummel, was a junior, coming all the way from a public school in Lima. No one knew the details of his transfer, and it was the talk of Warbler's practice the afternoon before the kid's arrival. Some of his things had already been brought up to the vacant dorm room at the end of the hall, moved in a few large bags carted up the stairs by a really tall guy, who looked to be around the right age.

He was probably the mysterious Kurt. No one had had the chance to talk to him, though, so the rumor went unconfirmed.

Either way, it was all the Warblers could talk about.

"I bet it was a move," proposed Trent as he passed a crumpled ball of paper to Nick, who in turn tossed it back. "You know, something boring like his dad getting a better-paying client. It's always something boring."

"Not necessarily true," replied Jon as he picked at a loose thread on the inside of his blazer. "Isn't this kid coming from a public high school or something? It was probably a better job. Not everyone's dad is a lawyer, you know."

"Well, I think it was a divorce."

"Or a remarriage." Thad chimed in.

"And what, exactly, does this kid have to do with perfecting our pieces for sectionals?" Wes muttered indignantly from the head table, his fingers massaging tiny circles into the skin of his temples.

"Aw, let 'em have their fun." David replied with a smile from his spot behind one of the couches. He slung his folded arms over the back of the couch and leaned forward to rest his chin on his elbows. "Besides, this new kid could be a recruit."

"And why, pray tell, would we want an untrained recruit right before the competition season?"

"Hey," whispered Jeff, completely ignoring the bickering council at the front, his eyes going wide as he shot forward in his seat on the couch. "I have an idea. What if he's like Blaine?"

All eyes turned to the boy in question, whose face was slowly melting from shock to a red flush of irritation. "And just what are you insinuating, Jeff?"

Jeff simply shot him a patronizing look, as though the answer was as obvious as night and day. Practically everyone knew about Blaine's whole bullying situation at his old school, and looking around at the curious faces in the practice room, Blaine had to restrain himself from rolling his eyes in disgust.

"Oh, and I suppose he's gay too? Because you know, we public school kids, we're all batting for the other team and just bully each other for kicks until we can find a safe haven to run off to," he scoffed. "No wonder people call Dalton the 'Gay Hogwarts.'"

David let out a loud, hearty laugh and slapped Blaine on the back. "And I suppose he'll be the Ginny to your Harry."

Blaine frowned. "You're confusing people, David. Only, like half the guys in this room have even read those books."

"Your point being?"

"Can we please rehearse? Something? Anything? Maybe even hum a few bars?" moaned Wes from the front desk. "_Please_? It's almost four, guys. We aren't going to have the room for very much longer—Mr. Yamada is coming in here to steal the piano from us so he can rehearse with the All State kids."

Nick rolled his head onto his shoulder and looked over at Wes. "Oh, come off it, Wes. You knew damn well that nothing was going to get done at rehearsal today. You might as well come over here and enjoy the gossip with the rest of us."

Wes scowled but moved over to the couches to join the rest of the boys. "Why are you all so enamored with this new kid anyway?"

"It's a mystery!" Trent threw open his arms dramatically. "Transfers here aren't exactly the most common thing in the world. Well, not at this time of year anyway."

"We all want to know why he's coming to this particular school. Especially since rumors say he's a public school kid. Not everyone has the money to go from public to private like that, let alone a boarding school like Dalton."

"Blaine did it," Mark, one of the few freshman in the group pointed out, gesturing a thumb toward the junior.

Blaine threw up his arms in exasperation. "And we're back to me again. Is it really that fascinating that I came here?"

"No, not really," murmured David. "But he's got a point. You do have to admit that it's weird to go from public to private like that. Bullying is a perfectly good reason, what with the strict enforcement and stuff."

Blaine snorted. "I highly doubt it was a bully that brought him here to our _esteemed halls_. I mean really, did any of you actually see the guy? He's like, seven feet tall."

"And you're a midget."

"Shut up!"

"Twenty bucks says he's gay."

"Forty says he jumps Blaine in the first week."

"What the hell, guys. Just because I'm the only one who—"

"Sixty-five if they make out."

"This really isn't funny. When did we change the topic to this?" Blaine's face was completely flushed with red hot embarrassment. "And why does it matter if he's gay? Sure, he's kid of cute, I guess, but—"

"A hundred says Blaine can get into his pants by the end of the semester."

"David?" Blaine shrieked, his voice rising nearly an octave. "You too?"

"I have a proposal." Every head turned to look at Wes, who was standing at the front of the room. Though his arms were crossed tightly and defensively across his chest, his face was split in a devilish grin. He could play this game too, and if this was what their practice had degenerated into, why not have a little fun? "This kid will be the talk of the school, right?" There were vague nods scattered throughout the room. "So, if we manage to scoop him up before one of the other clubs, we'll have that much more notoriety."

David shrugged. "Makes sense. But what does that have to do with Blaine jumping the kid's bones?"

Blaine was about to retort back when Wes cut him off. "I was getting to that, actually." He pointed at Blaine, his smile growing wider with every word. "We should have this kid in our group. And you, Blaine, are going to seduce him."

"What?"

"You heard me. You need to seduce him, get him to fall head over heels for you, and then drop him like a rock. That way we get the attention of having the new kid on our team, but we don't have to keep him hanging around forever."

"What if I can't get him to join up?"

Wes shrugged. "I suppose that part doesn't really matter, though it would be a bonus. In any case, it'll be fun to watch the drama, especially if he's straight."

Blaine narrowed his eyes and shot Wes a hard look from his place on the floor. He could feel the tension in the room. Every gaze was centered solely on him, everyone holding their breath in anticipation. Blaine didn't want to seem like a coward, didn't want to disappoint the group, but there was a nagging feeling in the back of his mind telling him that this was a bad idea.

"What's in it for me?"

"Why, Mr. Anderson, whatever do you mean?"

"You guys all get entertainment and something to bet on while I go and make a fool of myself. So far it looks like I get nothing out of this whole thing, so, as I said before: what's in it for me?"

Wes's eyes lit up and his smile was so wide now that it looked almost painful. "The thing you've wanted since you joined up last fall."

"Wait. You mean…?"

"Yes, Blaine. If you go through with this, we'll give you a solo. No audition necessary."


	2. Chapter 2

Author's notes: Hmm, I probably should have gone to class instead of ditching and writing this, but eh, it was worth it.

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><p>As it turned out, Kurt Hummel was nothing like the tall boy who had hefted all those bags up to the dorms three days ago. Unfortunately, from the looks of him and much to Blaine's chagrin, he was still rather tall.<p>

He'd moved into the dorms late into the evening, well after curfew, according to the boys on his floor. There had been footsteps and the creak of human bodies weighing down the old floorboards in the hall echoing just outside the thin barriers of the dorm room doors. Aaron Matthews, one of the guys in room 236, swore at breakfast that he had heard voices coming in through the thin walls—two men and a woman, and one of them had sounded suspiciously like the Dean of Students. The kid, Kurt, must have been dropped off by his mom or something. It made the divorce theory that much more plausible. So far no one had seen hide nor hair of Kurt or the woman who'd brought him up to campus since the day he'd brought up his stuff to the dorms, and it only deepened the mystery.

Upon hearing the news flicking throughout the student body as he trudged from the dining hall to his first period English class, Blaine felt his heart sink down into his stomach; he was really going to have to go through with this, wasn't he?

He slunk in through the door and slid over into his seat near the window, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. No one in the room knew about the wager, it was just between the Warblers, all of whom had been sworn to secrecy, and Blaine was going to do his best to keep it that way. He didn't bother to dig out his notebook for the class, instead choosing to plop his head into his hand and stare out the window onto the frosty grounds. As his eyes tracked over the tan sweep of grass and the barren limbs of the many trees just outside the school building, he let his mind wander. So. Kurt Hummel. He had to seduce the guy. Blaine thought back to the boy he'd seen on the stairs, lugging items up to the dorms. That had to have been Kurt. Who else would it be? Blaine frowned a little into his palm.

The guy hadn't been bad-looking, kind of cute in your typical schoolboy jock kind of way; he just wasn't exactly Blaine's type. A little too muscular, his hair too dark. Blondes were so much better. And of course, the guy had been way the hell too tall. Blaine didn't need another reminder of how short he was compared to most of the other boys here at Dalton, and hanging off the arm of a giant like that was sure to get him teased to no end. And if he had to bring Kurt home to his parents? Oh dear lord. He'd never hear the end of it from his dad. This was going to suck. Blaine made to run his fingers through his hair, almost forgetting about the gel taming his wild curls, before moving his hands down to rub at his temples. He really didn't want to even try and date this kid, but he was stuck now. There was no turning back. He'd never live it down.

He sighed and looked out the window once more. At least Kurt had had a kind of nice face, and he was lean enough. Blaine could pretend he was the right body type if he tried hard enough. Hopefully the kid's personality wasn't grating. He wasn't sure he could do this, but it really wasn't like he had much of a choice. Not if he wanted that solo.

He'd been so lucky when he'd transferred. Not many kids could say that they'd been approached by a member of the Warblers on their first day, and he'd had not one but two. David and Wes were near inseparable; they were awesome guys, and they'd showed him the ropes. Dalton was daunting for a freshmen, but it was even more so for a traumatized transfer student. Those two had helped him carve out a niche at this school, and he'd never felt more accepted than with the a capella group. He wasn't exactly sure why Wes and David had taken an interest in him even now, but they were some of his closest friends. He was forever grateful to them.

But being best friends with two members of the council didn't mean that he was guaranteed solos. He still had to audition like everyone else, and he'd yet to land one after several attempts. He wasn't as bad as some of the guys, but it hurt to be turned down time and again for someone else. This was his chance. He'd finally be able to show the group just what he could do.

All he had to do was seduce this one guy.

His mind drifted back over his dismal excuse for a love life, and he fought the urge to bury his head in his hands. There had been Ariana and Jennifer when he'd still been in denial about his sexuality and hiding the whole thing from his parents. Then there'd been Mark, and if that hadn't been a disaster, he didn't know what was. Everyone else was little more than a complete and total blur—nameless faces and bodies after a night of drunken bliss. He'd woken up next to strangers more than he'd care to admit, and the concept of a stable relationship, no matter how fake it was, was completely foreign to him. How the hell was he going to seduce this kid when the only way he seemed to know how to get into anyone's pants was to get completely and totally wasted?

A thin groan escaped his lips, and he didn't bother trying to keep his head out of the soft cover of his folded arms. This was going to suck. Hard. He might as well kiss that solo goodbye. It had been a nice dream while it lasted.

"All right, class, settle down." The low timbre of his teacher's voice filled the room, and the gentle chatter faded away into silence. Mr. Jennings didn't tolerate extraneous noise and wouldn't hesitate to throw kids out of his class for speaking out of turn. "We have a new student today,"

Blaine's head shot up, every fiber of his being now focused on the front of the room, but the tall boy from before wasn't standing there. In his stead was someone Blaine had never seen before. He was slight, almost fragile looking in the navy and red of the Dalton uniform, though he was still somewhat tall from what Blaine could tell.

He scowled as he examined the boy at the front. Damn it. Of course Kurt had to be someone else than expected, and of course, even _this _guy was freakin' taller than him. It wasn't fair.

The boy's chestnut hair was impeccably neat, it looked like not even a single strand was out of place. A control freak, probably. The skin of his face and the delicate hands clasped around the strap of his book bag was incredibly pale, almost like porcelain, and he looked young enough to be a middle-schooler.

Really, _really_ not Blaine's type.

This was going to suck.

Mr. Jennings gestured over to the boy at his side. "Class, this is Kurt Hummel. He just transferred here from William McKinley High School in Lima. I want you all to make him feel welcome."

Kurt didn't say a word. Not even a nervous greeting or a 'nice to meet you all.' Nothing. His eyes swept over the room, and Blaine could feel the disdain radiating off of him. He was either scared out of his mind and putting up one hell of a front, or this kid was one of the biggest snobs Blaine had ever seen. Either way, it was painfully obvious that he didn't want to be there. Maybe he was a delinquent and his parents sent him up here to be rid of him. Dalton was a boarding school, after all. Blaine grimaced at the thought.

Mr. Jennings patted the desk directly in front of him with a broad disarming smile. "You can take this seat right here, Kurt."

Blaine stared at his target as he took his seat. Good lord, even the hair on the back of his head was perfectly styled. Kurt paid no attention to the boys around him as he reached into his bag and placed his notebook and a pen before him on his desk. He didn't even glance around to get a feel for his classmates, though most of them couldn't stop looking at him. He was a curiosity, and he didn't seem to notice.

Blaine sighed as he watched the dark blue fabric of the Dalton blazer bunch and stretch over those thin shoulders with every movement the kid made.

This was going to suck.


	3. Chapter 3

Even though it made him feel immensely creepy, Blaine took to watching Kurt Hummel. He followed him around the halls, memorizing his class schedule. He stared at him in their shared classes, picking up on the boy's subtle mannerisms, trying to figure out just what it was that made him tick.

In almost a solid week of observation, Blaine figured out many things. First, that Kurt was something of an introvert. According to a few of his other classmates, he rarely spoke, even when asked a direct question, and he kept firmly to himself, even going so far as to grab portable lunches from the cafeteria to eat up in his room. Second, Blaine learned that that the kid was also kind of a bookworm—he was always off by himself in one of the common areas or holed up in his dorm, reading or studying like his life depended on it. And lastly, Blaine learned (much to his relief) that Kurt was completely, totally, one hundred percent gay. That little factoid made his life infinitely easier.

That didn't mean he knew how he was going to approach the guy.

Blaine was distracted as he trudged into the library. All of the other Warblers had been interested in his progress and, finding that he wasn't really going anywhere, had given him a deadline: he needed to have bedded and dropped Kurt by the end of Spring Break. That meant he had the entirety of Winter Break and all of the romantic holidays it entailed as well as Valentines Day to woo the kid. That meant he had time, but he still hadn't even figured out a way to _talk_ to the guy yet; how the heck was he going to get Kurt to sleep with him at this rate?

It was a Friday afternoon, and the library was nearly empty. Most everyone had already packed up and headed home for the weekend, which was perfectly fine for Blaine. The school would be quieter, and he could finally get some time to think and figure out what he was going to do about this whole fiasco. The library seemed like a perfect place to go.

The quiet, towering shelves always seemed to calm him down, help him get his head on straight. And right now he needed a plan. He was floundering with indecision and making a fool of himself in the process. Most of the guys were already of the opinion that he was going to fail, and Blaine was now more determined than ever to prove them wrong.

He was desirable. He was smooth. He was sexy. He was Blaine Anderson, damn it, and this Kurt kid wouldn't know what him.

Blaine honestly hadn't expected to find Kurt in the library.

The second he saw the boy he ducked behind the nearest shelf and hid himself from view. Oh god, he hadn't expected this. He peered around the corner, praying that Kurt hadn't seen him. Kurt had been sitting in one of the extended windowsills, made large enough that a person could comfortably sit on the ledge and enjoy the sunlight coming in through the glass. Blaine breathed a sigh of relief to see that the other boy hadn't stirred, apparently still engrossed in whatever it was he was reading. He hadn't seen him. Good. Blaine was safe for the time being.

He wandered over to a nearby table as casually as possible, laying his books out before him. He needed to look busy, make himself as inconspicuous as possible while still in view of his target. He opened his math text and flipped to the problems he had to work on over the weekend. As he scribbled down equations and half-hearted notes, he snuck glances at the boy in the window. The late afternoon sun lined his head and shoulders, like a thin halo of light around his entire figure. He was completely absorbed in the book in his lap, though Blaine couldn't tell if it was a novel or simply an unfamiliar textbook.

Kurt made as though to stretch, and Blaine ducked his head down low once more, trying to make himself as unremarkable as possible. He was just another student studying in the sanctuary of the library. Nothing more. Even if there was a hot, red stain of embarrassment creeping up his neck onto his cheeks. God, he was such a creep. But there was no way in hell he was backing out now. Blaine Anderson wasn't a quitter, and there was a solo out there with his name on it.

He looked over at Kurt once more and studied the boy's frame. He was lean, and Blaine definitely liked that, so at least there was one good thing about him. It would be nice to have that body writhing beneath him at the very least, so maybe there was some good to be had from this after all. And his face wasn't terrible; well, what Blaine had seen of it wasn't terrible. Kurt had a nasty habit of never really looking at him, but what he remembered from that first day in Mr. Jennings's class was all right if a little bit on the youthful side. He could work with it.

Kurt's long legs were tucked up onto the windowsill with the rest of him so he could easily read his book on the platform of his bent knees, and Blaine was still irritated to note that the kid's hair was still impeccably neat. Blaine huffed and engrossed himself once more in his homework. He wondered just how long it took Hummel to get his hair to look like that. It took _ages _for Blaine to get his hair into any sort of presentable state. He snorted softly. It probably took Kurt something like five minutes to style his hair or something ridiculous. Life sucked like that.

He was so lost in his musings that he didn't realize someone had sat down beside him until a shadow fell over the pages of his notebook.

"You have an error in line three." The voice was bored and high in pitch, and had his eyes not shot over to look at the person next to him, he would have sworn it was a woman talking to him. Instead, he found himself staring dumbly at Kurt Hummel, his chin resting in his open palm as he looked over the math work on the table. So he hadn't been dropped off by his mom; the people who'd heard him move in had mistaken him for a woman. That was certainly interesting.

Blaine was at a loss for words. Oh god, what if the kid had noticed Blaine staring at him? If any of the guys found out about that he'd never live it down.

"What?" he said dumbly, and immediately regretted it. He wanted to smack himself for looking so stupid. So much for the suave approach.

Kurt lifted a long finger and pointed at the page. "There. In your proof. You forgot a negative. That's going to completely change your answer."

Blaine looked down to where Kurt was pointing and quickly scanned over what he'd written. Sure enough, there was the missing negative. A heated blush rose to his cheeks as he rubbed out the equations with the eraser on his pencil. Oh god, now he'd given the guy an actual reason to be smug and made himself out to be an idiot in front of the boy he was supposed to be seducing. Perfect. Just perfect. He fought the urge to bury his head in his hands. This was not going how he'd planned _at all_.

Kurt was still staring at him, his book from before placed carefully in front of him, his ever-present messenger bag folded neatly in his lap. "So," Kurt started, and Blaine wasn't sure he'd really get used to that voice, "are you generally this creepy, or do you simply have a thing for spying on people? Oh, wait. I know. You're trying to freak out the new kid, right?"

Oh crap. Crap, crap, crap. Kurt knew. The guy knew he'd been following him, and Blaine could see his solo flying away from him, forever out of reach. "I, uh—you see, the thing is—"

The side of Kurt's mouth lifted upward in a sort of half smile. "Are you normally this eloquent, or have I simply caught you on a good day?"

Kurt's eyes bored into him as he tried to stammer out a response. The fading light of the afternoon sun hit his face, and Blaine was mesmerized. This kid was far from what Blaine wanted in a boyfriend, but this could work. He really did have beautiful eyes. Blaine hadn't quite gotten a good look at them before. He was having a hard time determining their color. _Green, _he decided,_ they're definitely green in this light._

Kurt's face pinched together into a frown. "Is there something on my face?"

"No! No, um, I just—"

"Then why have you been staring at me for the past half hour? Why have you been following me around like a lost puppy since the first day I came here?"

"Well, I uh…" All of his eloquence had left him, and his brain kept drawing a blank on what to say. God, this was a disaster.

Kurt raised an eyebrow and gathered his book into his hands. "I see," he said quietly before standing, the strap of his bag sliding down his shoulder. He made to leave, but Blaine's hand shot out to wrap around his thin wrist, effectively stopping him.

"Wait! Wait, I—"

Kurt jerked his arm away with a sharp intake of air. "Don't you fucking touch me," he hissed.

Blaine was a bit taken aback at the response, but he backed off, his hands held up in submission. "Sorry. That was a reflex. I just—I'm doing this all wrong."

"I have no idea what it is you think you're supposed to be doing, but yeah, I'd say you're doing it wrong." Kurt's voice was laced with venom, his face darkened with some emotion that Blaine couldn't place. He noted the way Kurt cradled his wrist against his chest, almost as though he'd been burned. It was kind of unnerving.

"I'm sorry. Please don't leave. I just—" but he never got the chance to finish. Kurt had swept his book from the table and was gone, leaving Blaine to stare dumbly at his retreating back.

Damn it. This was going to be harder than he thought.


	4. Chapter 4

Author's notes: Posting this real quick before I have to leave. I hate busy Saturdays!

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><p>Blaine had come to the conclusion that he needed to back Kurt into a corner, somewhere the boy couldn't run from him, and apologize. None of the Warblers had stayed behind for the weekend, so no one would know. And hopefully doing it would get him in Kurt's good graces.<p>

Now he just needed to figure out where the heck he was going to do it.

The library was out. He hadn't seen Kurt there since Friday afternoon, and time was starting to run out. Blaine had gone back and forth from the dining halls, trying to catch a glimpse of Kurt at one of the near empty tables or perhaps grabbing a sandwich or something before retreating to his room, but there was been nothing. No one had seen him. It made no sense. The kid had to eat at some point in time, and the dining hall was a perfect place to confront him, but Blaine was shit out of luck.

Perhaps his dorm room was the best place after all. Kurt spent way too much time there anyway. It made sense. Blaine could corner him when he left to use the bathroom or something. But that had been a bad idea too. He'd nearly been busted by the RA's as they did their nightly check for those breaking curfew—_not_ an experience he never wanted to repeat.

And now Kurt was missing _again_, and Blaine was running out of ideas.

Kurt kept vanishing into thin air, and Blaine didn't know what the hell he was going to do.

Sunday night was drawing ever closer, and it seemed that more and more boys were making their way back to the school every minute. That just meant more eyes watching him, more people to spread the word if he had to swallow his pride and apologize to the kid in public, more people to watch him make even more of a fool of himself and laugh at him behind his back. More chance of a Warbler walking in through the door to mark his progress.

Blaine didn't know if he could do this—image was absolutely everything, and his reputation would be more than ruined if he had to go around begging the new kid for forgiveness before worming his way into Kurt' pants—but he knew that if he failed, Kurt would never see him as anything more than that creep from the library. Who'd been following himself around since he'd set foot in the school.

He was doomed.

Completely and utterly doomed.

He trudged down the empty hallway, trying to get his head on straight. He had no clue what the hell he was going to do. He had to apologize—that was a given—or else Kurt would never look him in the eyes, but how the heck was he supposed to do that when he couldn't even find the kid he was supposed to apologize to? Ugh, this was so frustrating.

The tap of his shoes against the floor was stupidly loud to his ears as it echoed off the walls of the corridor. There was something that he couldn't wrap his mind around, however: Kurt's reaction. So yeah, he shouldn't have reached out and grabbed the kid like that, but he hadn't meant to. The guy had been trying to leave before Blaine could explain himself, and he'd panicked. A reflex reaction. And yeah, he could understand Kurt getting defensive, especially since Blaine really had come across as an obsessive creep, but the way he'd held himself, that look on his face, that hadn't been normal.

_Fear_, Blaine realized as he rounded the corner. Kurt had been afraid of him.

Well, more like Blaine touching him, but still. He thought back to Kurt's wide green eyes, his hand cradled protectively against his chest.

_Don't you fucking touch me._

Maybe Jeff hadn't been too far off. Maybe Kurt had been bullied at his old school and was coming to Dalton for a fresh start. He certainly seemed the type to get picked on, what with his high little voice and the odd way he carried himself. And the whole gay thing. That probably hadn't helped much either.

Or maybe he was just freaked out by the guy who'd essentially been stalking him for a week. Both theories made sense.

He sighed and slowed his pace, not really sure where he was going anymore. This was just getting worse and worse, and he really wanted to beat his head against a wall until a solution came to him. He was so going to fail at this rate. This kind of thing was so much easier when he was drunk.

The soft strains of music hit his ears and he stopped dead in his tracks. He looked at his surroundings and realized that he'd wandered all the way to C Hall, over near where the band kept their equipment. Over near the favored practice room for the Warblers. He closed his eyes and tried to listen for the music once more. The piano. Someone was playing the piano in the practice room. The song was familiar, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

He swallowed and started walking again. He hoped that whomever was playing wouldn't mind a little bit of an audience. There was something about music that drew Blaine in like a moth to the flame, and he felt his heart beat faster as the chords grew louder and louder with every step.

Damn it, he knew this song, but he couldn't think of the name. He found himself standing before the solid wooden door of the practice room, his hand gently pressing down the cool metal door handle. This door was always so quiet. It was something he'd always liked about this particular room. The door swung open with barely a sound and the chords hit him full force. Whomever was playing didn't seem to notice; the music played on unhindered. He closed his eyes, his head filling in the words where the piano was now playing. He knew this song.

_And I find it kind of funny; I find it kind of sad.  
>The dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had.<em>

Mad World. He wondered why it had taken him so long to figure that out. The notes started to repeat themselves; the song was coming to an end. He opened his eyes and deflated a bit against the door.

Kurt.

Well. This was interesting.

Of course the person at the piano was Kurt. Because some celestial being must have thought it would be fun to screw with him. He sighed. At least this would give him his chance at an apology. Maybe he'd even get to make a move. Things could be worse.

The notes slowly petered away into nothing, and Blaine suddenly didn't know what to do. He froze against the door, not really sure if he wanted Kurt to notice him or simply keep playing. He really hadn't thought this through.

Kurt sat, silent and still at the instrument, his hands resting on the keys, though he made no move to play. Blaine's eyes swept over him, and he noticed that the boy didn't seem anywhere near as polished as usual. He wasn't sure exactly what it was that was different, but something was definitely off. Kurt kept his face pointed toward the keys. He looked so lost, so vulnerable, and Blaine felt guilty for intruding on such a personal moment. But he really needed to break the silence.

He cleared his throat and Kurt's head snapped up, their eyes meeting. Time seemed to slow for a moment before it was suddenly going far too fast.

_Huh, his eyes are blue now. Maybe it's a trick of the light_.

Blaine coughed a little to clear his throat again and build up his nerve. "Um, hi," he said softly, the edges of his mouth quirking up in a disarming smile.


	5. Chapter 5

Kurt scowled and curled his hands into fists on his lap. He refused to look at Blaine. "What the hell are you doing here?" he asked, his voice deadly quiet, and Blaine shrunk back against the door.

"I was just walking, and, um, I heard you play. You're pretty good, you know. I haven't heard that arrangement before."

Kurt still wasn't looking at him, but the other boy had made no move to leave either. It was a start. Blaine's eyes quickly scanned the room, taking in the familiar surroundings, trying to look anywhere, _everywhere_, except at Kurt. He noted that the boy's messenger bag was missing. The lack of its presence made him uneasy—Kurt was never seen without it—but a small part of him also deflated with relief. Neither of them had anything they could use as deflectors, as shields. They were on equal ground. He swallowed and stepped away from the door.

"Look," he said softly, trying to come across as unthreatening as possible, "I went about this all wrong."

"I'll say," Kurt snorted, his eyes still firmly fixed on his hands.

"But I'd like to start over." Blaine sucked in a deep breath, briefly closing his eyes and sending out a silent prayer that this worked. Because he was totally screwed if it didn't. He cautiously approached Kurt, trying to ignore the way the other boy curled in on himself with every echoing footstep. When he was only a few feet away from the piano, Blaine stopped and held out his hand for Kurt to take. "Hi. I'm Blaine."

Kurt was still unresponsive, and Blaine's smile faltered. This wasn't going well at all.

He lowered his hand to his side and looked uncomfortably at the ceiling. He didn't know what the heck he was going to have to do to get this kid to trust him, but an apology would probably be a good place to start. "Um, for what it's worth, I'm sorry. About before. I shouldn't have been such a creep. I just, um…" He trailed off, not really sure what to say.

_I just want to know the quickest way to get into your pants._

_I'm just using you._

_I'm trying to prove myself to the guys._

_If I go through with this then they'll finally give me the solo I've rightfully deserved for so long._

"I like you," he blurted out, his face heating in a mad flush even as the words left his lips. Oh god, of all the stupid things to say—

"What?" Well, Kurt was finally looking at him, so that was a plus. It didn't help that his brow was furrowed in confusion, though.

"Uh, I like you?" Blaine repeated.

A heavy silence hung in the air between them, stretching out far beyond the bounds of awkwardness. Suddenly, Kurt hunched over on the piano bench, and his thin shoulders began to shake.

Oh god, the kid was crying, wasn't he? Fuck. He wouldn't get anything right lately. Even when he was being nice he still managed to screw things up. Thank god none of the guys were here to see this. But what the hell was he supposed to do now?

He stepped forward, his arm outstretched as though to touch Kurt's shoulder and comfort him. "Hey, I—"

But he was cut off by a sound he hadn't been expecting. Kurt was…laughing? The taller boy threw his head back and then doubled back over in huge fits of hysterical laughter, and Blaine was at a total loss for what to do. This Hummel kid was insane. There was nothing else to it. Kurt had wrapped his long arms around his torso, his face had gone beet red, and Blaine could have sworn he saw the faint beginnings of tears clinging to the boy's lashes. Blaine's face drew together in a tight frown.

What the hell was so funny?

He stood there awkwardly while Kurt attempted to catch his breath and regain some semblance of control, his arm still hovering uncertainly over the boy's quivering shoulders. As Kurt's laughter finally began to subside, Blaine could feel anger rise up in his belly to override the shock of seeing the pale boy before him lose control. He'd just confessed to liking Kurt (and granted, he wasn't exactly being genuine about that, but still, it's the thought that counts). And here the kid was fucking laughing at him. Thank god this was a bet or he'd probably have decked the guy right then and there.

Kurt's breathing calmed to a series of uneven hiccups. His normally stony face was flushed with mirth as he straightened. "You're shitting me," he huffed breathlessly. The swear sounded odd falling off his lips, and his voice was still hitching with the remnants of laughter. He sobered a bit at Blaine's expression. "Wait. Holy shit, you serious."

It really wasn't a question, but Blaine answered anyway. "Well, yeah," he replied, watching as a myriad of emotions flashed across Kurt's face before the familiar passiveness returned. "is that so hard to believe?"

Kurt let out a sarcastic snort but said nothing. It was all the answer Blaine needed. He could do this, use this new little tidbit of information to his advantage. Hummel simply thought himself unattractive. Insecurity was easy enough to work around. All Blaine had to do was convince Kurt that he was beautiful or some shit like that and the dude would be all over him. Case closed. Lord only knew how many times the same ploy had worked on Blaine. His mind quickly spurred into action, trying to think of the right words to say without seeming too desperate.

"Look, I know I went about this the wrong way, but honestly, I'm kind of new to this whole thing."

"What, crushing on guys?"

"Yes. I mean, no! I mean—" He threw his arms up in the air with an exasperated sigh. "How do you do that?"

Kurt shrugged, but Blaine could see a tiny smile quirking the corners of his lips. "It's a gift."

Blaine frowned a little and tried to keep calm; he was letting the kid get to him again.

_Just focus. It's one guy. An insufferable one, yes, but you can crack this nut. You're Blaine fucking Anderson, soon to be soloist extraordinaire. If anyone can do this, it's you._

He looked hard at the floor, contemplating his next move. Kurt's voice suddenly filtered into his consciousness. "You Dalton boys like to play around with some serious crap, don't you?"

His head snapped up in surprise. "What?"

"You guys. Here. I get picking on the new guy, but this is a little much, isn't it? I mean, hell, at my old school, if you were new, you got a slushie facial or two and that was that."

Blaine frowned. He was missing something. "What the heck is a slushie facial?"

Kurt rolled his eyes. "It's where they take one of those corn syrup monstrosities and toss it in your face. Nothing special." Blaine was taken aback by how casually the explanation fell from Kurt's mouth, but before he could comment, Kurt was talking again. "But you guys bring out the big guns. Get to fake relationships and things right off the bat. So, who put you up to this and why? Are you trying to get into some club or something?" Kurt's blue eyes were wide, curious. Blaine felt his pulse quicken. Crap. How the hell had Kurt figured him out so quickly? Was he really that obvious? He needed to do damage control, and fast.

Blaine blushed and tucked his chin in toward his chest. "N-no."

"Are they just picking on the gay kid? You know that's against the rules here, right? I could report you."

"Yes, okay? I get that. And no, no one put me up to this," he lied smoothly. _Oh god, believe it. Please just believe it. I need this, you little freak. Don't mess this up for me._ "I just, I like you, all right? I wasn't really sure how to approach you." Not a total lie at least.

"And you thought following me around, _stalking me_, and making goo-goo eyes was going to get the job done?"

He winced. It all sounded so much worse, so much more pathetic, when put into words. "Yes?"

Kurt grimaced and tried to shrink down onto the hard black bench. "Um, no offense. I'm sure you're nice and all, but I don't…I'm not really interested." His voice got quieter and quieter as he spoke.

"Oh. Um, can I ask why?" A sudden thought occurred to him. "You're not straight are you?" That _would _be just his luck. Misinformation _again._

Kurt's eyes were fixated on his shoes. "You can ask. And no, I like guys. I'm just not…I don't want a relationship or anything like that right now." He looked up once more, his blue eyes unreadable. "And frankly, I'm still not sure about your intentions."

Blaine deflated. This was going to take more work than he'd thought. He closed the distance between them, ignoring the way Kurt tensed like a rabbit stalked by a wildcat as he drew up beside him and sat down. "Well, could I get to know you at least? Like, as a friend?"

"I…I…"

Blaine smiled brightly and turned toward the keys. "Maybe you could show me the arrangement you just played? I'd love to learn it."

Kurt really didn't know what to think. He'd just turned this guy down outright and nothing had happened. He was still just as friendly as he'd been when he'd walked into the room. Yeah, okay, he was still kind of creepy, but one song couldn't hurt, right?

What harm could it do? He could use a friend.

"Okay," he whispered, his fingers falling silently over the keys. "I'm Kurt, by the way. I know you already knew that, but you said you wanted to start fresh." He tried to ignore the warm presence beside him, focusing his attention on his words and the white ivory under his hands.

Blaine just smiled. Bingo. He could make this work after all. "Blaine," he said softly, though he knew that Kurt must know his name by now. "And it's very nice to meet you, Kurt."


	6. Chapter 6

Blaine couldn't believe his luck. He'd actually managed to talk to Kurt. Not only that, but the boy had even been _friendly_. Well okay, so he hadn't really been all _that_ friendly, and Blaine's initial plan of sweeping the kid off his feet and into his bed with a single look had been a dismal failure, but he'd been able to talk to Kurt for more than thirty seconds without the boy scurrying away or punching him in the face. He'd take that as a victory. It was progress. Sort of.

But right now he had a few other things to occupy his mind. Blaine had found a comfortable nook in one of the common areas, deserted for the time being, and he was deeply engrossed in his English homework when David sidled up to him from behind. Blaine looked up from his book to see his friend casually inspecting his fingernails, trying his best not to look like he was doing anything important. Blaine sighed and cast a wistful look at the text in front of him before sliding a slip of paper in between the pages to mark his place.

"Yes, David? Was there something you needed?"

David didn't bother to look down. He simply kept studying his hands as though they were the most fascinating thing in the world. "Why, Blaine. I'm shocked. What ever would possess you to think that I wanted something from you?"

"You've been hovering over my shoulder for the past fifteen minutes."

"What if I was just checking your work?"

"I'm reading and taking notes on _Like Water for Chocolate._ What's there to check?"

"Character names, minor plot devices. Things like that." He gave a dismissive wave of his hand.

Blaine narrowed his eyes, and tried to will the humor out of his voice. "You have no idea what this book is about, do you?"

"Not a clue."

Blaine fixed the older boy with a look, and David caved. "Okay, fine. I wanted to talk to you about the 'arrangement.'"

Blaine raised an eyebrow. "What's there to know?"

David rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest with a sigh. "Look, the guys commandeered me to check up on your progress."

He looked down at Blaine, and squirmed uncomfortably under the boy's heavy gaze. "Okay, fine. It was only Wes, but still, man. We need to know where you're at."

"It's only been a week, David."

David fought the urge to roll his eyes once more as he retorted, "Yeah, and a couple guys have already had to pay up. Seriously, dude. I thought you'd be better at this. I mean, at James Howlett's party it only took you ten minutes to—" He was cut off by Blaine's hand clapped firmly over his mouth. The smaller boy had shot up from his seat and was now straining on the tips of his toes to keep his hand firmly in place.

"Shh! Just, shut up, okay? Do you really want people to hear you?" he hissed. Blaine really didn't remember much about that night, but he'd woken up with far less clothes than he'd been wearing when he'd arrived, a killer hangover and tales from nearly all of the Warblers that he could suck face with the best of them. He'd been ribbed for weeks about how loud he was in bed—apparently the walls of the Howlett household were rather thin, and Blaine had been particularly enthusiastic that night—though he honestly had no idea if he'd even slept with someone then, let alone who it might have been. It wasn't exactly something he wanted to talk about in polite company. Or any company, for that matter.

David smirked around Blaine's hand, noting the boy's fevered glances around the room and the hot, red blush creeping up Blaine's neck to color his entire face and the tips of his ears. He brought up his own hand and pulled Blaine's away from his mouth, gently pushing the other boy down to stand flat on the floor.

"Okay, fine. I'll play along." He took a glance around the room himself to make sure they were alone. "It's probably best no one outside the Warblers know about this anyway." He grinned down at his companion and said in a much quieter voice, "It's probably in the grey area in terms of the zero tolerance policy, but I'd rather not risk someone from another club or something trying to one up us or disband the group by reporting this."

He wrapped one of his long arms around Blaine's shoulders. "So, is your roommate in?"

"Yes. And he's being completely obnoxious as always. That's why I'm down here; I'd never get any studying done otherwise."

David hummed in response and turned his gaze to the wall, trying to remember if his own roommate was holed away in their dorm. "All right. We'll avoid your room, then. We can head up to my room; I'm pretty sure Zach has lacrosse or something right now, so it should be clear." He looked down again at Blaine, his smile wide and devious. "And if nothing else, we could always descend upon Wes's room. Lord knows he deserves an intrusion now and again, and he's the one who convinced me to do this in the first place. Otherwise you'd probably be dealing with Nick, and you know how discrete he is."

"Yeah. Like a bullhorn." Blaine relaxed a bit and gave a light smile of his own, though his eyes still darted around the area, keeping up a steady surveillance as he shook loose from David's grip and gathered up his things. David rolled his eyes at the boy's skittish movements but said nothing. Blaine had always been something of the nervous type. Well, when he was breaking the rules at least. He was going to give himself a coronary or something one of these days.

"Dude, chill out. It's just a progress report. Nothing serious."

Blaine said nothing as he swept the last of his belongings into his arms and scurried from the room, David hot on his heels. They were halfway up the stairs when Blaine turned to look at the upperclassman, a sheepish look on his face. "Um, which room is yours again?"

* * *

><p>Lady luck was definitely smiling down on him. David's room was completely empty when they came in, and his roommate had even left a little note saying that he'd be in later than expected. A study group or something like that, Blaine hadn't really bee paying attention.<p>

He sunk down onto Zach's bed with a sigh, dumping his bad on the floor with a weighty thump. "So. What exactly do you want to know?"

David flopped down onto his own bed across from Blaine. "Just a progress report," he repeated.

"Meaning…?"

David rolled his eyes and let out a deep breath of exasperation. "Are you being dense on purpose? A progress report, B. Like, how far have you gotten with this kid? I know you haven't done him yet, or you'd be gloating like nothing else instead of sitting here with me avoiding the subject. Have you kissed him at least?"

"Well…" Blaine looked down at the floor, not wanting to meet David's eyes.

"Okay. That's understandable. Baby steps, right? I mean, he's only been here a week. Um, how about hand holding?" No response. "Touching of any kind?" Nothing. "Shit, dude. Have you even made eye contact with the kid?"

Blaine threw up his arms with an irritated growl. "Okay, I get it. I'm bad at this sort of thing, but it's not entirely my fault. I've had tons of crap to do, what with sectionals coming up, and the guy's a freaking icicle."

David narrowed his eyes and fixed Blaine with a scrutinizing stare. "You didn't do anything creepy to the kid, did you? Like with that Anthony guy?"

Blaine's face lit up, and suddenly he found the floor far more interesting than anything else in the room. David couldn't help but laugh. "Oh my god, you did. Dude, you followed him around for almost a month before you talked to him. I thought he was going to file a restraining order."

"I've talked to Kurt."

"Well, that's progress. Is he even the slightest bit interested in you?"

"I…I don't think so."

"Ooh, sucks to be you, man. I might have to change my bet now."

It was Blaine's turn to roll his eyes, but he said nothing. Let David gloat all he wanted, there was no way in hell he was going to mess this up. He just needed more time. Kurt would warm up to him eventually. The low rumble of David's voice brought him out of his thoughts. "So off the record, man. What's the kid like?"

"Frankly, he's kind of an ass, but I think I might have gotten him to open up a little."

"Hiding things, is he? Our little transfer student just gets more and more intriguing. Did you find out anything about him?

"No, not really. He plays the piano."

"Wes would be pleased to hear that if you plan on getting him to join the Warblers. Can he sing?"

"I don't know. I didn't ask, and he didn't try." He thought back to Kurt sitting shyly beside him at the piano, his mask falling out of place for a few short moments before he turned to the keys to show Blaine where to place his fingers. The guy's speaking voice was stupidly high; if he could hold a tune, he'd probably have a pretty wide range. "I guess I'll have to bring it up next time I talk to him."


	7. Chapter 7

He supposed that sooner or later his stalking methods had to pay off, and this whole fiasco with Kurt was perfect. The transfer student was still just as evasive as he'd ever been, and whenever Blaine asked after him, most everyone told him that they hadn't seen the boy, that he'd probably locked himself away in his room. Again. Kid was more fucking guarded that a clam whose shell had been jammed together with super glue. It was endlessly frustrating. It was a small miracle that the kid was also a stickler for routine.

With his conversation with David following him around like a plague, Blaine decided that it was time to move forward with his plan. He'd show the Warblers that he was a stud, and the jerks that had no faith in him could shove it. He was going through with this thing. No matter what.

He just needed to get Kurt to trust him, and that meant stepping up his game. Blaine needed to find a way to get around Kurt's defenses, under the boy's masks. Kurt might not be interested in a romantic relationship, but Blaine couldn't even be friends with the guy if they never spoke. He just needed to corner Kurt. Again.

And really that was why he was standing here in the dining hall, waiting for the minute-hand of the clock above the door to hit twenty-eight. Kurt was always running a few minutes ahead.

And, just as he'd expected, the slight boy slipped in through the large double doors, casting wary, suspicious glances at the boys already gathered at the lines of tables running through the hall for lunch. He mad ea beeline for the a-la-carte window, apparently trying his best to avoid eye contact. Or contact of any kind, for that matter. He weaved expertly past the students like a fish, and Blaine had to admit that he was impressed. It tended to take talent and quite a bit of time to navigate the crowds the way Kurt did. It only made him that much more intriguing.

Blaine pushed himself from the wall and followed Kurt toward the window, staying off to the side so as not to be a nuisance. Kurt had just finished shoving what looked to be a vegetarian wrap (interesting choice) into the confines of his bag when Blaine approached him from behind.

"Hey, Kurt," he chimed with a broad smile that brightened his face just a bit.

Kurt jumped nearly a foot in the air at the sound of his voice. His eyes went wide with shock, and Blain could hear the sharp, fractured inhalation of Kurt's breath. There was pure, unadulterated fear painted across his face, and Blaine felt his stomach sink down into his shoes. He really hadn't meant to freak the kid out. It just sort of happened. His mood dropped dramatically. This wasn't going to work, was it? Because _that_ was definitely not a normal reaction. Great.

"You okay?" Concern snuck its way into his voice because as much as he didn't like the kid, Kurt's jumpiness had him just a bit worried. It could be nothing, but Blaine had no way of knowing that.

Kurt pushed past him with a light growl, his shove to Blaine's shoulder hard and forceful as he swept past. "You're an asshole," he hissed as he stormed away toward the hall, heedless of the curious glances cast his way.

Blaine stood there for a moment, completely dumbstruck, before a hot bubble of anger rose up in his belly. His mind was finally made up. He dashed into the hallway after Kurt, determined to catch up with the taller boy. Luckily, Kurt hadn't made it very far.

"What the hell is your problem?" His voice echoed down the empty hallway like a gong, and he could see Kurt stiffen from his place near the stairs.

Kurt turned and faced him, his face drawn into a hard glare, but he said nothing, waiting for Blaine to make the next move. Blaine stared at the boy's sour expression, and felt his irritation grow even more.

This was insane. This kid was fucking insane, and Blaine was done playing games. Kurt was going to get the hell over himself and fall for Blaine like he'd planned. If the kid had just done what he was supposed to in the first place, then Blaine could have gotten out of his life and been practicing for that solo by now, but no. No, Kurt had to go and be a recluse and an ice queen all in one shot, and Blaine was sick of it. He had never wanted a drink so bad in his entire life. Alcohol made things so much easier.

He stormed forward until he was almost nose to nose with Kurt and didn't bother trying to control his temper. If anything, being close to Kurt made him even angrier because god damn it, Kurt was tall, and if that didn't make Blaine feel insecure he didn't know what would. He jammed his finger into Kurt's chest, too incensed to notice the other boy's flinch.

"I've never been anything but nice to you since you got here and then, when I come up and fucking say hello, you freak out and get all defensive and bitchy on me? And then you have the nerve to call _me _an asshole? What the hell is wrong with you? Seriously, if this was what you were like at your old school, it's no wonder they got rid of you."

Kurt's scowl darkened, but he stood his ground. "What's _my_ problem? What's _your_ problem, Blaine?" He spat out the boy's name like something foul that had somehow wandered its way into his mouth. "I know you sheltered private school boys don't really give a damn about anything that might be happening outside the sanctity of your precious four walls, but here's a reality check: get the fuck over yourself.

"You think following me around, learning the ins and outs of my schedule and then propositioning me without even introducing yourself first is being _nice_? I don't know what kind of strange fantasy world you're living in, but seriously, what the hell? I'd hate to see what you think being cruel is. I kept you company the other day, yes, but you also caught me off guard and had me backed into a corner or did you forget that? Get it into your head: I don't want to be your friend." Kurt leaned in closer, and Blaine could feel the other boy's breath brushing against his nose. "Is this really such a hard concept to get through your thick little skull?"

Blaine's mind suddenly went into overdrive. Crap. He'd lost his temper, and now the guy he was supposed to be seducing was about three seconds from punching him in the gut. Crap, crap, crap. He needed an out. And fast. Kurt's blue eyes swam in front of his vision and suddenly it hit him: the piano lesson the other day, the conversation with David. He could use that.

"Do you sing?" he blurted out.

Kurt jumped back and looked at Blaine like he'd sprouted a second head. "What?"

"Do you sing?"

"What does that have to do with anything?" Kurt's voice had risen in pitch, and Blaine could tell he was floundering. Thank god for diversions.

"I just—you have the most interesting voice, and I thought—"

"Wait, wait, wait." Kurt straightened a bit, but the look of disbelief never left his face. "Let me get this straight. You go around following me for a solid week, going so far as to stand outside my room when I'm not there—yes, I know about that, you sick freak; I can hear gossip just as well as you can—you corner me in the music room, claiming to have a crush on me—which terrifies the hell out of me because you can't take the hint to tone it down—and then, when we're fighting you suddenly want to know if I can sing?"

"…yes?"

Kurt threw up his arms. "You're insane. Leave me the hell alone! I don't want to know you, and I have no idea why you want to know me."

"Because you're interesting."

"Oh, and I suppose that when some new shiny thing shows up, you'll after that like a cat with a laser pointer, am I right?"

"No. I just—why can't you accept that I want to be around you."

"Because I don't want to be around anyone! At all. So go away." Kurt turned to leave but was stopped by Blaine's voice.

"Why don't you want to get to know anyone?"

Kurt was silent and frozen at the base of the stairs leading up to the dorms. The silence was deafening, and Blaine trudged onward, emboldened by Kurt's stillness.

"What are you so afraid of?"

"Just go away," Kurt whispered, not once turning around to look at Blaine. Blaine could swear that he heard the edge of tears in the boy's voice.

"Why won't you let me be your friend?"

Kurt did look at him this time, and the sorrow in his face brought the hard lump of guilt that had wedged itself into Blaine's gut right up into his throat.

"Because I'm not ready to lose anyone else right now."

Blaine had nothing to say to that and could only stare dumbly as Kurt started up the stairs, slowly climbing out of Blaine's reach.


	8. Chapter 8

Author's notes: Sorry if any of this reads weird. I wrote most of this chapter on the bus ride home after my last final last night (and that was after a nine hour shift at work), so it probably rambles a bit. I'm going out of town for the next couple of days though, so I figured I'd just post this now. Hope y'all enjoy it.

* * *

><p>Blaine had never felt this unsure of anything in his entire life: not when he'd decided to come out to his parents, not when he'd transferred, not even when he'd had had the giant ego crusher of being turned down time and again for even the tiniest solo part in a Warblers gig. He'd never felt this way. Never. And it was unsettling.<p>

_I'm not ready to lose anyone else._

Kurt's words echoed in his head everywhere he went, and a terrible, overwhelming sense of guilt had decided to take up residence in his gut. What the hell had Kurt meant by that?

_I'm not ready to lose anyone else._

Maybe he'd been dumped publicly by an old boyfriend. If it had been humiliating enough, like Kurt sending the guy naked photos or something and then having them posted throughout the school, then that was more than enough reason to transfer. Blaine would certainly have transferred. And it was definitely a good reason to not want a relationship anytime in the near future. Of course, that only made things worse for Blaine; Kurt would be just that much harder to reach. And Blaine had to admit that he did feel just a little guilty about using Kurt, if that was the case.

But it could be something else. Like maybe someone died on him or something. Like a parent or a sibling. It was possible. And maybe his defensiveness, his terrible attitude and closed-off nature were simply his way of grieving. It made sense. And damn if that didn't make him feel like even more of an asshole.

But he couldn't back out now. He'd actually been making progress before the fiasco in the dining hall, and with sectionals soon to be nothing more than a fond memory, he needed to act fast. He had only so many chances left before he was completely out of time. And he knew for sure that he'd never do anything more than sway in the background if he gave up on this.

Failure was not an option.

He hadn't had the chance to speak to Kurt since their fight in the hall, and Kurt had switched up his patterns enough that Blaine couldn't find him. But they did still share the one class, and as much as he didn't want to approach the boy anywhere near where a teacher could intervene, it was really his only option. He'd have to corner Kurt after math.

The day dawned cold and grey when Blaine decided to make his move. It was perfect, really. Kurt _had _ to be there in class today—they had a test, and Mr. Jennings was notorious for his lack of make-up assignments. There was absolutely no way Kurt would skip it, no matter how much he wanted to avoid Blaine's presence.

Blaine had forced himself to sit still and feign attention to the talk going on around him at breakfast, but the butterflies in his stomach wouldn't leave him alone. He really didn't understand why the hell he was so nervous; he was just going to ask Kurt a question. Just one. That's all. And the kid was a twig, even if he had a good couple of inches on Blaine. Nothing to be afraid of.

Blaine just wished he could get his hands to stop shaking.

He slunk into the classroom early and took up his spot near the window. Same as always. Nothing to worry about. Except that he was still so nervous that he felt like screaming.

He really didn't want to take this exam. There was no way in hell he'd be able to concentrate on equations and graphs and whatever the hell they were supposed to have studied this morning, but Kurt would be there, and Blaine could hopefully clear some of the awkwardness between them and apologize. Again. He turned his head to look out the foggy glass beside him.

It wasn't quite raining, but the sides of the window were dotted with moisture. He watched the slow descent of the little drops of water to distract him from the sound of his classmates entering the room. He knew that if he looked up his eyes would be stuck on the door until Kurt stepped in, and he was absolutely sure that once he saw the boy he wouldn't be able to stop looking at him for fear that he'd disappear again. And he had no idea what the heck he was going to do if Kurt caught Blaine staring at him.

Another little bead of water had just started snaking its way down the glass when Mr. Jennings's deep voice brought his attention to the front. Kurt was there in his usual seat at the head of the room, and Blaine itched to go up and talk to him. It'd have to wait. Mr. Jennings was already starting down the rows with a bundle of tests in his hands, checking the desk of each boy he passed to ensure that no one had any notes or cheat sheets peeking out from his bag.

Mr. Jennings slid the test onto his desk and Blaine felt his heart sink as he looked at the jumble of numbers and diagrams. He glanced back up at Kurt to see the boy hunched over in his seat, frantically scribbling down equations and the like. Blaine sighed and slowly picked up his dull yellow pencil from its spot on the edge of his desk. This was going to be a long day.

* * *

><p>Kurt sank back against the wall of his room and let the stillness take over him as he dropped his bag to the floor. Another day down. And it was now officially the weekend too. He felt himself relax a bit at that. Weekends meant no classes and, best of all, fewer classmates. Unfortunately, it also meant that Blaine would have an easier time finding him.<p>

Kurt had never been so thankful for his ability to dodge a crowd in his life. He could feel the other boy's eyes on him all through the math test this morning, and his oh-so-wonderful stalker had tried (unsuccessfully, thank god) to talk to him once they were released from class. As much as he'd always liked having the spotlight centered on him, he was glad that he could blend into the general student body so easily here. He could dissolve into the sweeping mass of boys and disappear, hopefully losing the trail of the damned Anderson boy.

He pulled out his phone from his pants pocket to check the time. A little after three thirty. He needed to call his dad so he could get a ride back to Lima. Things had been a little weird since his transfer, but there was no way Kurt was going to stay in Westerville for the weekend. He tapped out the familiar numbers and pressed the phone to his ear, his face breaking into a light smile when his dad answered.

"Hey, dad."

He straightened and rose from his spot against the wall, reaching down briefly to grab his bag from the floor. "No, no, I'm doing okay. No, everything's fine. I promise."

He sat down on the springy mattress of his bed and put all of his attention toward the voice on the other end of the line. "Yeah, so, what we talked about. Can you come get me? I've been looking forward to this dinner all week."

His dad mumbled into the receiver and Kurt huffed out a breathy chuckle. "No, I'm serious. Yes, dad."

He grew quiet, his eyes suddenly shooting over to the door as he caught a light rustling sound creeping in from the other side, but he forced himself to relax. It was nothing. Just his hallmates being stupid or something. Crap. His dad was still talking. "What? No, sorry, I just—" Something slid under the door, and he froze completely.

"Kurt? Kurt, are you there?"

His grip around the phone had loosened and he was terrified that he might drop it. He couldn't do this; it was worrying his dad. He tried to get his breathing under control. "Yeah. Yeah, everything's fine. Listen, I need to go, but you can still come get me, right?"

He eyed the door as his dad attempted to calm him down. There was a little folded square of paper that had been shoved under the tiny gap between the floor and the bottom of the door. Kurt had gotten those before. They were never anything good.

"Yes. Everything's okay. I just—I need to go. Someone's calling me. I'll see you when you get here. Drive safe." And he disconnected, his eyes never leaving the little white square on the floor.

He remembered the last time he'd gotten one of those. It hadn't been too bad in comparison to everything else, but it had still hurt like nothing else. He steeled himself and placed his phone down on the bed beside him. Might as well get this over with. He could always hand it in to the deans later as evidence of harassment.

The paper was smooth and unassuming, just like every other 'note' he'd ever gotten, and Kurt was just a little ashamed when he noticed his fingers trembling as he picked the thing up from the floor. HE turned it over in his hand, and slowly unfolded it's bent edges, being extra careful should someone have decided to stick something inside. But there was nothing. Just a short note written in a flowing script that he didn't recognize.

_Kurt,_

_I'm really sorry about anything I've done to upset you. I know that I'm a jerk and you probably never want to see my face again, but as a fellow music lover and a student at our school, I was wondering if you'd do us the pleasure of supporting our glee club, the Warblers, as we head to sectionals this weekend. We're one of six groups competing, and the music is always pretty good. It's in Kenton this year, so if you're going home, the drive shouldn't be too bad. I've written down the address of the school we're performing at on the bottom of this note._

_I'm sorry about before, and I hope you can make it._

_Blaine_

_P.S. - Sorry I missed you in math today too. I was going to ask you then, but I think that test dissolved what little sanity I had left. Here's hoping you did well._


	9. Chapter 9

Blaine loved performing. He loved the excitement of it all, the blinding glare of the lights in his eyes as he stood on stage, the rush of adrenaline that filled his head and his stomach with butterflies before every performance. He really loved the feeling he got when the swell of applause rose up from the crowd after a job well done. He loved every moment, every aspect of performing, and he'd never, not once, felt unsure of himself before stepping out on stage. Except today, of course.

"Hey, Blaine." David flopped down on the couch beside him, causing the cushions to rise and fall a little as his weight settled, and Blaine's stomach flipped over on itself again. David leaned forward, trying to inspect his friend's face. "You don't look so good, man. Please tell me you're not going to throw up. Because seriously, we're on in like, two minutes."

Blaine's face paled even further and he sunk down as best he could into the greenroom couch, hoping that he could simply disappear and that would be the end of it. Running out now and throwing up in the bathroom sounded good right about now if only to help get his mind off of their impending performance. "I might just," he mumbled.

David edged away from him, but the furrow of concern never left his brow. He glanced nervously at the other Warblers, most of whom were softly warming up or getting in some last-minute practice, and then up at the clock. They were scheduled to go second , and the first group was sure to be just about finished by now. He looked back at Blaine, his nerves rising at the boy's pallor. They really couldn't afford to have one of their members get sick right before a performance, but it was Blaine. He bit his lip. "You gonna be okay to go on? I mean, you're never like this before a concert. It's kind of freaking me out. I could tell Wes and Thad, and we could always just change the choreography a little to cover—"

"No." He sat up, brushing David off. He swallowed to help calm himself down. "No, I'll be okay." He stood and wandered over to the table in the back of the room, which had thoughtfully stocked with small bottles of water for the competing groups, courtesy of the West High School glee club, Stormy Weather. Blaine picked one at random and popped the lid open, though he didn't drink just yet. For the moment, it simply felt good to have something to occupy his hands. It distracted him from the tingling feeling in his extremities.

He wasn't particularly nervous about performing—he knew his part and the simple choreography well enough on both of their songs that he could perform them in his sleep. And going second didn't bother him anywhere near as much as it normally would (the Warblers was both the only single-sex and a capella group performing tonight, so they were sure to stand out no matter when they performed). No, he was freaking out over that stupid note he'd left for Kurt on Friday and whether or not he'd bothered to show up.

It was so stupid that he was nervous about this at all. It was just one guy. Things shouldn't be this difficult, and he really shouldn't care this much. But this thing with Kurt was also the hinge upon which the rest of his high school singing career sat. He _had_ to make this work.

The warning lights flickered and he quickly downed about half the water in the bottle in his hand before rushing over to take his place in line.

This was it. Showtime.

He just hoped that Kurt was out there in the audience somewhere to see it.

* * *

><p>As soon as the warmth of the stage lights hit his face, Blaine was able to let himself go. All of his anxiety washed away as he danced across the risers and felt his voice blend into the flow of the music around him.<p>

David's smiling face greeted the crowd as he belted out the lead, and Blaine felt a swell of pride at the sound of his friend's voice, but it was darkened with a twinge of jealousy. That could have been him up at the front. The could have been him singing actual words and phrases, the one everyone's eyes were glued to instead of swaying in the background. As it was, he was simply one more guy in a uniform behind the lead, and it sucked.

At least the complex harmonies had given him a mostly unique part. It was something.

And once their set ended, the crowd rose to their feet in cheers, and Blaine felt the knot in his chest loosen. He could do this. They had this competition in the bag, and Blaine only felt his resolve strengthening as he watched David bow up at the front. He'd find a way to get this bet over with as soon as possible. Kurt wouldn't know what hit him.

That was going to be him up there at the front at regionals.

And nothing, not his teammates, not whatever the hell had happened to Kurt, not even the boy himself was going to stop him. Blaine was going to get that solo if it killed him.

* * *

><p>They slid into the rows of seats specifically reserved for performers right before the fourth group was set to go, but Blaine was still too dizzy from the high of performing that he barely took note when the first strains of music began to play. He tried to focus on the swirling yellow skirts of the girls onstage, the powerful notes bursting forth from the singers, but his mind was spinning, and his attention kept shifting from the choir onstage, to his fellow audience members, to the crumpled program in his hands.<p>

Wes shot him a worried look from his left, but he smiled back to put the other boy at ease. He was fine, really, just a little overstimulated was all. At least his hands had stopped shaking, the tremors moving down to his legs where they could be more easily hidden.

He didn't even know the name of the group performing. He looked down at the program in his hands and carefully opened it. He quickly scanned the page, and his eyes caught on the name at the bottom. The last group to go, The New Directions, was from Lima. Huh. That was Kurt's hometown. He glanced behind him, his thoughts wondering back to the brunet. Kurt was musically inclined. Blaine wondered if he'd been in a glee club or choir at his old school. Than he snorted, trying to picture the boy singing. He'd have one of those boy choir voices if he sung anything like how he spoke. He had to stifle a laugh at the thought of Kurt actually getting up on a stage and performing. No, there was no way a stuck-up, snotty introvert like Kurt would ever have the nerve to sing in front of an audience. Or do much of anything in front of an audience for that matter. There was no way.

The crowd suddenly rose up around him, and Blaine shot to his feet, clumsily clapping around the paper in his hands. He hadn't even realized that the group onstage, the Showstoppers or something like that, had finished.

But his eye caught sight of a familiar head of hair not two rows over, just beside the aisle, and he couldn't get his arms to work anymore. It was Kurt. Kurt was here. He was smiling and clapping and talking to the woman beside him like he didn't have a care in the world.

Blaine felt a smile creep back onto his face. Kurt had seen them perform; he'd come to support them just as he'd asked. He sat back down and settled in as the next group was introduced. Maybe this wasn't as hopeless as he'd thought.

* * *

><p>Author's notes: Sorry it took me so long to get this chapter up. I had to find and re-watch 2x9 because I completely forgot what happened at sectionals. This may be an AU story, but I don't want to make too many things up. That said, you shouldn't expect to see the Hipsters. I liked them, but I couldn't get over the fact that they're supposed to be from Warren, which logically means that Vocal Adrenaline should be at this sectional (Akron is between Lima and Warren), and I didn't want that. I have enough problems with Glee's geography as it is. It also makes more sense for this to be a high school only competition as opening it up to continuing ed. means that colleges and such should be eligible to participate as well, which creates another whole host of problems, and I don't even know why I'm trying to rationalize Glee's competition system.<p>

Also, while I'm rambling, I've had people point out that Kurt and Blaine are OOC in this story. After reading through this again, I've found that yes, they kind of are (Kurt has some reason to be this way; Blaine, not so much, but I think that might be my dislike of the character bleeding through, sorry). However, the characterizations they have now are going to stay this way throughout this story because I need them this way for the plot and, well, in for a penny, in for a pound. So if this bugs you, then I recommend moving on to something different. Sorry. :(

And to the one anonymous reviewer who was afraid of this being a cliche: yes, it's a cliche plotline (it's kind of obvious from the summary), but I hope not to end it as one.


	10. Chapter 10

Blaine was having a hard time concentrating on the group on stage now that he knew Kurt was here. His head couldn't stop swimming with the fact that the boy had bothered to come to the competition to support the Warblers when he and Kurt had had such tension between each other before. Maybe he wasn't failing at this seduction thing as badly as he'd suspected, and if that didn't boost his self confidence, nothing would.

He kept casting glances behind him, trying to catch a glimpse of Kurt and his reactions to everything but was forced to stop when Wes jammed an elbow into his stomach to get him to focus back on the front.

"What the hell, Wes?" he hissed, rubbing his midsection.

The older boy glowered at him. "At least pretend to pay attention. You're making us look bad."

"Sorry." It was insincere and he knew it, but Wes seemed satisfied with the mumbled apology. Blaine straightened in his seat and glued his eyes to the front to see the group finish their set. What he'd seen of them had been good, but he was confident that the Warblers were still in the lead here.

They'd been at the top of their game tonight: their choreography had really been pretty eye-catching, even if they were a little static compared to the group in yellow, and David and Trent had been really good as the leads for their songs (who knew that a softie like Trent could get such a gritty sound to his voice?).

Only one choir left to go before the break. That group from Lima. And then the results would be announced. He couldn't wait.

He stood and applauded with gusto as the music faded away into nothing and the stage cleared. Just one group left. He cautiously looked over toward Kurt and was a little surprised to see him even more excited than before. The woman with him (his mother perhaps?) seemed just as enthusiastic, if not more so. He didn't really understand, but perhaps they were gearing up for Dalton's big win. School pride and all that, even if Kurt had never seemed particularly spirited before this whole thing. Blaine slid back into his seat, vowing to corner Kurt during the break and get his reaction to the competition straight from him. If he was correct in his assumptions, then Kurt would be gushing all over how well they did, and winning his heart would be as easy as pie.

There was a low hum of voices coming from the stage to break the crowd into sudden silence, and he settled in for the last round of songs. Just a few more minutes and this would all be over. But the heavy red curtains didn't open, not even when singing started up from the back. Everyone twisted around in their seats, and Blaine was startled to see a cute blonde guy emerging from the entrance to the auditorium, his face lit up by the spotlight and perfectly accented by his maroon shirt.

Blaine's heart pounded madly at the sight of that adorable smile, the sweep of hair across his forehead, those strong hands, and he almost kicked himself for being so fickle. Looks really shouldn't matter, but he was allowed to ogle, especially since most of the other guys seemed quite taken with the little blonde thing this guy was singing with. The two soloists were like a matched set, and he was entitled to like Ken a bit more over Barbie, thanks.

He sighed as he watched the couple dance down the aisles. If only Kurt had looked like _that_. This whole thing would have been so much easier.

Speaking of Kurt, Blaine glanced side-long at him one last time to see…pride? He looked again, hoping that he'd misinterpreted Kurt's smile with smugness, but no, he looked genuinely proud and just a little bit surprised at the sight of the couple making their way to the front. What? Blaine barely registered as the curtains swung open to reveal the rest of the choir. He shuffled madly through his program, looking for any clues about the…New Directions, or whatever they were called, but there was little to be had. It just said that they were from William McKinley High in Lima, their director's name was Schuester, and their captains were Finn Hudson and Rachel Berry. Nothing else.

He turned his attention back to the stage to see the couple dancing back and forth, casting each other sappy romantic looks as the rest of the group (a rather mismatched but well-tuned bunch) backed them up, and he wondered if those two were Berry and Hudson. It made sense. Teams with co-ed captains often featured the two dating, so it wouldn't be surprising in the least. He just wished that they'd save the public affection for somewhere other than competition, as it wasn't exactly the most professional behavior.

But deep down he knew that the judges would eat it up. Little won over people's hearts faster than a schmaltzy heterosexual romance, and these guys were going last with a cute blonde couple as their leads, so they'd be freshest in the judges minds. It didn't really help that they sounded good either. Great. He scowled and sank down into his seat. This wasn't going well.

When the song switched over, another girl stepped forward from the back. Her voice was rougher, but it worked well for the song, and that _dancing_. He couldn't take his eyes off the duo at the front flipping around each other like it was nothing. He felt his stomach sink down to rest somewhere near his feet as the song drew to a close, and the room erupted into cheers.

This was bad. Very bad.

* * *

><p>The hallways felt far less stuffy than the auditorium, though they were crowded with just as many people. Families and friends were greeting the competitors, and for once Blaine was happy that his parents hadn't bothered to show up to a performance.<p>

He snuck away from the rest of the Warblers in search of Kurt, but the lithe brunet was nowhere to be found. After several minutes of fruitless searching, he was ready to admit defeat. He slid down the wall into a crouch and buried his head in his knees. This was not going how he'd planned at all.

"Kurt! You made it!"

His head snapped up at that, and his eyes shot across the room in search of the speaker.

"Of course, Mercedes. Did you really think I'd miss seeing you guys perform?"

There. Over near the vending machines. Kurt was surrounded by girls in black and white dresses, boys in maroon shirts and white ties. Crap. Blaine fumbled with the crumpled program in his hands once more, and wanted to cry as he reread the locations of each of the schools. Of course. He was such an idiot. These kids were from Kurt's old school, and he was here to support them, not the Warblers. The woman who'd been sitting with Kurt had her arms wrapped around one of the other members of the Lima choir. He was stupid tall and vaguely familiar, but Blaine couldn't quite get over his oversight.

He buried his head in his knees again, letting the group's conversation fade into the background, and he fervently wished he could disappear. How could he have been so _stupid_?

The warning lights flashed and he scrambled to his feet, eager to rejoin the Warblers. The judges had made their decision, but Blaine had already felt like he'd lost.

* * *

><p>The lights were on full in the auditorium as everyone took their seats, the choirs all sitting eagerly on the edge of their seats. There were too many people to fit onto the stage all at once, but Blaine could see several members of rival choirs linking hands in anticipation as the judges took the stage.<p>

"We've all had a wonderful time here tonight, and I can't think, in all my time as a teacher, that I've ever seen such a talented group of students. Let's give them all one last round of applause," the head judge began, and the crowd erupted into a chorus of cheers. Blaine could only manage a few half-hearted claps. They were doomed. Doomed with a capital D. He didn't feel much like celebrating.

One of the women beside the lead judge passed him an envelope, and Blaine's heart leapt up into his throat. This was it. "And now, what you've all been waiting for. The results of this year's west-central Ohio sectionals!" He waved the envelope around a bit to stir up the crowd before slowing leaning in to open it.

"And, our second runner ups for 2010 are," he sucked in a breath for dramatic effect and Blaine had never wanted to punch someone so bad in his entire life, "all the way from Westerville, the Dalton Academy Warblers!"

He sat there in stunned silence until one of the guys grabbed him by the arm and yanked him to his feet, dragging him up to the stage to accept their award. He didn't even register the announcement of the first runner up.

Lost. They'd lost.

"And now, let me be the first to introduce you to the winners of this year's western-central sectional." He opened up the last envelope, and Blaine almost mouthed the words along with him. "From William McKinley in Lima, the New Directions!"

So much for his good weekend.

So much for regionals.


	11. Chapter 11

Blaine really wasn't used to crowds. It was one thing to be standing in front of a group of people when their attention was completely centered on him, but it was another entirely to be forcing himself through a pulsating mass of bodies. It really didn't help that he couldn't really see where he was going either.

He shoved his way past parents taking photos and wrapping their arms about their children's shoulders, words of praise, like 'good job' and 'I'm so proud of you' falling from their lips. Blaine sent up a silent word of thanks that his parents hadn't made it to this competition, if only because they would have slowed him down. He was on a mission. He needed to find the New Directions.

He pressed onward, searching for the trademark maroon shirts, the black and white dresses, but was having no luck whatsoever. Even though they'd won, it seemed as if the group had vanished into thin air, taking Kurt along with them. He wanted to scream in frustration but held himself back; it wouldn't do to get upset while he was still around the competing choirs and their families. It would be a terrible reflection on the Warblers and Dalton as a whole. He just wished he could find the McKinley students already.

All of a sudden he was shoved to the side by a passerby, and he stumbled, losing his footing and crashing into the wall beside him. He scowled as he dusted off his uniform. How embarrassing.

But he didn't have much time to dwell on it, as a hand was shoved roughly in his face, and his vision swam with the delicate peach of someone's palm. He looked up, his eyes watering a little from trying to get his eyes to focus on the thin lines engraved in the skin to see the lead dancer of New Directions, the pretty blonde who'd been at the forefront of their second song.

"Sorry," she said lightly with a smile. "I didn't see you there. Are you okay?"

"Uh, yeah. I'm okay."

She relaxed a little with relief before leaning down to get a better look at him. "You're from that gay school, right?"

"What?" He could have sworn he'd misheard that.

"The one with all the cute boys. I think that's where Kurt goes now, but I don't really remember. I'd have to ask Santana. I like your uniform."

"You know Kurt?" Of course she did, judging by how friendly the boy had been to the whole glee club during the intermission, but she didn't need to know that.

"Yeah. But he transferred, so we don't really see him much anymore. Finn is always telling us how he's doing though, 'cause they're brothers and stuff now."

Finn. Finn Hudson. That was the name of the male captain, wasn't it? Well, that was certainly an interesting development. So Kurt had more personal ties to the competition than he'd thought. He stared at her dumbly for a moment before taking her hand. There was a surprising amount of strength in her grip as she pulled him to his feet.

"Hey, you're like, my size. That's awesome."

He looked across at her and was almost winced when he saw that she was right, but seeing her bright smile at the comparison made him reign in his feelings and hide his disappointment. This girl was from New Directions. She could take him to them. He smiled, though he wasn't really sure that it was all that convincing. "What do you know? I'd say you're right. How neat is that?"

The girl rocked forward onto the balls of her feet and then back to her heels, and Blaine felt an uncomfortable silence wash over them, though she didn't appear fazed in the slightest. He coughed to clear his throat, drawing the girl's full attention back to him before she could run off and disappear on him. "So, I guess I should tell you congratulations. You guys were pretty incredible up there. I wish I had half the dancing talent you have."

"That's because of Artie. I was dancing for him tonight. I was way better than the magic comb. Well, it's not really magic anymore, but—"

"Who's Artie?" Blaine interrupted, trying to wind the conversation around to New Directions. He crossed his fingers; maybe this Artie guy was in the group.

"He's my boyfriend," she replied with another smile. Suddenly, she lit up and grabbed his hand again. "You should meet him. And you're friends with Kurt, so everybody's going to like you."

"Are you sure that's okay? I mean—" She didn't give him a chance to finish as she tugged him through the crowd that was slowly starting to filter out of the school. As they rounded the corner toward what looked to be the cafeteria, the McKinley High glee club came into view, all gathered around in a haphazard circle around their shiny new trophy. It hurt Blaine to see it—all he could think of was the tiny little one they'd handed to Wes while they were still on stage, but he tried not to let it show. He didn't see Kurt or the really tall guy who'd been hugging Kurt's mom at intermission, and he was slightly disappointed. But as he studied the group a little more, he realized that a few other members were missing too. For how hard they'd been to track down, the group seemed awfully scattered.

He didn't have much time to dwell on it though, as one of the girls quickly spotted them, drawing them into the center of attention. Blaine recognized her as the soloist from their second song. He spotted the blonde pair just to her right. She sauntered up to them, distancing herself a little from the group. "There you are, Britt. We were all thinking that you'd gotten lost again."

"No. But I found this guy. He goes to Kurt's school," she brightly informed them. She turned to look at Blaine, her hand still tightly wound in his, and she faltered, her smile fading. "I don't know his name, though. I forgot to ask."

"Uh, hi." He tried to smile at them, but he knew it was shaky. He needed to make nice with these people to get on Kurt's good side, but he wasn't exactly sure how he was going to do that. "I'm Blaine. I just wanted to say congratulations. You guys were really good. You were pretty fantastic on your solo." He was acutely aware of the stinging pressure on his hand where the girl, Britt (probably short for Brittany, but he couldn't be sure), was gripping it. He wanted desperately for her to let go, but couldn't muster up the courage to say anything. It was only made worse when the girl before them stared down at their linked hands with scrutiny before lifting her gaze back to his face.

"Thanks. You weren't too bad yourself, hobbit." She reached out to grab the blonde's shoulder and Blaine's hand was finally freed. He rubbed the tender skin, but quickly put it out of his mind when the pair began to walk away.

"Hey!" They turned back to him, the dark-haired girl's face drawn into a tiny frown. "Um, have you seen Kurt? I didn't know if he made it tonight, and I—"

"He was here, but he left a little while ago."

"Oh. Um, do you think I could talk to Finn then? I need to get a message to Kurt, and I don't really have his number or anything. You said they were brothers, so—"

She rolled her eyes and gestured vaguely toward the entrance. "He's probably off with Rachel. You should go look for them over there. Rachel dragged him away after we won, probably to moan about solos or whatever. Just look for the freakishly tall guy and the midget with the big mouth. Come on, Britt." She wound her arm around the blonde's shoulders and led her over to the group.

Blaine turned around and walked as quickly as he could without running toward the double doors leading outside to the parking lot. His heart was pounding loudly in his chest, and he tried to calm himself down. Talk about intimidating. But he had new information, _useful_ information, and maybe he could get this to work to his advantage.

He scanned the crowd, spotting the tall guy talking animatedly to a rather short brunette, and suddenly everything slicked into place. Finn was Kurt's brother. He was the guy they'd seen moving things up to Kurt's dorm when he'd transferred. It all made sense now. He increased his pace a little, now very certain of one thing: Finn Hudson was going to help him get closer to Kurt. He just needed to talk to the guy first.

* * *

><p>Author's notes: Sorry if Brittany andor Santana came off strange. I've written them before, but I don't think I've got a good grasp on their characters.


	12. Chapter 12

Author's notes: Sorry for the delay. I injured my hands recently, and it's severely hindered my ability to comfortably write/type/do much of anything. It's incredibly frustrating. Unfortunately, this also means that updates will probably be a bit on the slow side for a while. Sorry about that, guys.

* * *

><p>He scanned the crowd, spotting the tall guy talking animatedly to a rather short brunette, and suddenly everything slicked into place. Finn was Kurt's brother. He was the guy they'd seen moving things up to Kurt's dorm when he'd transferred. It all made sense now. He increased his pace a little, now very certain of one thing: Finn Hudson was going to help him get closer to Kurt. He just needed to talk to the guy first.<p>

He ducked and darted past people milling about the hallway, his attention completely fixated on the couple near the doors. They looked upset. Not a good sign. Blaine strained his ears to see if he could catch any of what they were saying.

"I just don't understand what you want from me."

"I want this to work between us, Finn."

"Then why do you care so much? It didn't mean anything."

"Didn't mean anything? Finn, _you slept with her_. And then lied about it to my face."

"You were going to sleep with Jesse!"

"But I didn't."

"How was I supposed to know you weren't gonna go through with it?"

Blaine grimaced as he headed closer toward the pair and the topic of their conversation and the reason they looked so upset finally became clear. This wasn't some sort of pep talk or consolation over missed solo opportunities in the wake of their recent win. No, from what little he'd gathered thus far, this sounded very much like a lover's spat. His heart sank and his steps slowed. The tall guy, Finn, was backing away toward the wall, looking more and more defeated as his conversation with his co-captain (Rachel, if he remembered correctly) dragged on. The tiny girl before him had her arms crossed defensively in front of her chest, and Blaine could swear that she was seconds away from bursting into tears or going on a murderous rampage. Or both.

This was going to suck.

He swallowed, his steps growing smaller and smaller until he wasn't moving anymore. The two were still arguing, and he wasn't sure when to jump into the conversation. Impatience might make a bad impression, so it was probably best to wait, no matter how awkward this was for him.

"You never answered my question."

"Which question?"

"Why her? Why did you choose her?"

Finn fumbled with his words, his arms flailing in exasperation. "I don't even know, okay? She offered, and I—"

"You think she's prettier than me, don't you?"

And that did it. This had gone on long enough, and Blaine couldn't take it anymore. He loudly cleared his throat, hoping the noise would draw Finn and Rachel's attention.

Thankfully, it did. The two quieted instantaneously, turning to look at him with wide, staring eyes. He felt his nerve leaving him under their combined gaze. "Um, hi. Sorry to interrupt. You guys are with New Directions, right?"

There was a beat of silence before either of them moved, Rachel drawing forward to grasp his hand. "Yes. I'm Rachel Berry and this is Finn Hudson."

"You're from Dalton, aren't you?" Finn had pushed away from the wall, and Blaine could see the boy's eyes fixed on the black and red crest on his blazer.

"Yes. I'm Blaine. Blaine Anderson. I, um, someone told me that you were Kurt's brother."

The grip on his hand suddenly became tighter, and the almost friendly expressions on the faces before him darkened with suspicion. His eyes darted back and forth between the two, and he prayed that neither of them noticed what was sure to be sweat gathering at his brow.

"Kurt?' he tried again with a shaky smile. "You know, Kurt Hummel?"

Finn stepped forward and leaned down just a bit, his gaze hard and steady on Blaine's face. "You said your name was Blaine, right?"

"Uh, well…yes?" What the hell did they want him to say? Had Kurt told Finn—heck, maybe all of New Directions based on Rachel's reaction—that he'd essentially been creeping on the guy since his transfer. All because of some supposed crush? The tension on his hand was suddenly gone, and he instinctively reached up to rub the aching appendage, more than a bit relieved that the painful handshake had ended.

"He's never talked about any of the guys from school. Not to me, at least." Finn looked down at Rachel, who simply shook her head, before turning back to Blaine with a somewhat puzzled expression. "I didn't think he'd actually made any friends up there."

Blaine continued rubbing his hand, eying Rachel warily in case she decided to lash out and deck him. "We're not really close or anything. He doesn't really talk much to people." He fell silent for a moment, not quite sure where he should take this. "Does Kurt talk much to you?"

Finn opened his mouth to speak, but Rachel beat him to it. "Why do you want to know? Are you worried that Kurt is some sort of spy? That he was giving away all of your glee club secrets? That we couldn't win a competition like this without cheating?" She drew closer and closer to him with every question, and Blaine shrunk back. He'd never felt so _small_ next to someone so much shorter than he. He held up his hands in defense.

"No! No, I didn't even know Kurt had connections to New Directions before tonight."

"He didn't tell you?"

"He doesn't really tell me much of anything, hence why I'm talking to you. You guys really did sound great tonight, by the way. You've got some incredible dancing and vocal talent." Rachel frowned a little, and Blaine fought back a wince. Great. He didn't need to go around complimenting people who had probably stolen the leads from these two. Captains in groups like this tended to get all the solos and things. Stupid.

He was a little relieved when Rachel sent a look Finn's way, drawing her attention away from Blaine and any perceived slight he might have dealt her by not thinking before opening his mouth. The worried look on her face didn't really help put him at ease. The animosity between the pair in front of him seemed to have mostly disappeared, and they shared a silent conversation that went completely over his head.

He shuffled back and forth on his feet, the awkward silence that had settled over them eating at him like an itch he couldn't quite reach. He coughed a little to regain Rachel and Finn's attention. "So, um, does Kurt really talk to you guys at all?"

Rachel hesitated, but Finn simply huffed out an amused breath. "Of course. Well, kinda. He's sort of like my brother, so we have to talk sometimes."

"Sort of?"

"My mom is married to his dad."

"Oh." Stepbrothers. Hence the different last names and physical traits. Blaine wondered why he hadn't picked up on this sooner. "But, um, does he really _tell _you anything? Like if something's going on?"

Finn grew very quiet, and Blaine could see Rachel swelling with rage just out of the corner of his eye. Crap.

"Why? Is there something going on that we should know about?"

Once again, Blaine found himself backing down. He shook his head as Rachel approached, but Finn held her back with a hand on her shoulder. "No," he replied calmly, his voice tinged with irritation and a tiny hint of what sounded oddly like sadness. "Kurt's pretty good at keeping things to himself. And it's not like I ask him, you know? You don't just walk up to a guy and ask to talk about stuff like that. Kurt wouldn't tell me if I did that anyway, so why not just save ourselves the embarrassment?" He eyed Blaine a bit more carefully now. "Why do you want to know?"

Blaine faltered, searching for the right words. "I, um, I think we'd all agree that Kurt's pretty secretive." The others nodded in agreement. "Well, I'm pretty sure that I'm one of the few people he's said more than a few words to at school since he transferred to Dalton. Do you think, um, do you think I could maybe get your phone numbers? Or maybe an email address or something?"

Finn jumped back. "Wait, dude, Blaine, you're not hitting on me or anything, are you?" Rachel shot him a glare and he quickly recovered. "'Cause I'm cool with gays and all, but—"

Blaine's face lit up in a deep blush, and he threw his hands up in embarrassment. "No! No, I'm just—wow, sorry, I really didn't mean for that to come off that way." He calmed himself, straightening the striped tie at his throat. "No. I just wanted to see if I could get some contact info for you—for _both_ of you—so that, in the unlikely case something does happen, I can get a hold of you guys. Before the school does, if need be. I mean, since he keeps so much to himself, and I kind of live with him now. I figured having someone on the inside at Dalton might help." It was a weak excuse, and he knew it, but Kurt had seemed so familiar with these kids that it really seemed like his best shot. At this point, Blaine knew next to nothing about the other boy—tonight had only served to drive that point home—and he needed information that he wasn't going to get simply by asking Kurt.

"Do you think something's wrong?" All of the anger in Rachel's voice seemed to have disappeared to be replaced by something like concern.

Blaine shook his head. "No, but it couldn't hurt, right? And I'd like to get to know Kurt better, but he won't really open up to me. I thought that maybe you guys could help me with that in exchange for the extra security?"

Finn seemed to think about it for a moment before nodding. "Yeah, I think I could do that. His dad's been kind of worried about him not making friends and stuff. Just so long as you give me your number and stuff too. I don't want this to be a joke or something."

"Trust me. It's not."

Finn patted at the sides of his slacks, shifting the black fabric around in his fingers briefly before giving up, his hands falling back at his sides. "Um, you don't have a pen or anything on you, do you?"


	13. Chapter 13

Pages and pages of notes were spread before him in messy, haphazard piles, blanketing the top of his bed like snow. The worst part of transferring, Kurt decided, was definitely the discordance between curricula at the two schools. He was still ahead in History and French, but way behind in English and Chemistry. It didn't help that he hadn't read more than half of the novel they were supposed to be tested on at the end of the week. At least he was finally caught up on Math. Now, if he could just get how these stupid chemical reactions were supposed to go, then his life would become infinitely easier.

He startled at the light tapping at his door. He didn't really talk to his classmates outside of class (well, with the exception of trying to get Blaine off his back). He grimaced at the thought of him. The kid couldn't take a hint. Not exactly the most endearing of traits. He turned back to his notes. Whoever it was could wait, and maybe if he ignored them long enough they'd take a hint and go away.

"Kurt? Are you in there? It's me, Blaine. Can I talk to you for a minute?"

Speak of the devil. Kurt rolled his eyes and went back to his notes. He really didn't want to deal with this right now. The tapping grew a little louder.

"Kurt? Please? Just a minute, I swear. Then I'll leave you alone."

He cast one last disdainful look at his notes and pushed himself to his feet. Whatever. It was a distraction, even if it was an unwelcome one, and he could probably use the break. Besides, knowing Blaine, the guy would probably sit outside his door until he was kicked back to his dorm for curfew. And that, unfortunately, looked to be about four hours away.

He sighed and walked over to the door, making a bit of a show of unlocking the door. Blaine was the one inconveniencing him, not the other way around; he could wait the extra minute or so. Blaine was standing just outside the door when Kurt finally emerged, the tips of his shoes almost brushing the threshold he was so close. A quick glance at him showed nothing out of the ordinary; he looked the same as ever: stupid and smug with far too much product in his hair.

"Yes? What did you want? This had better be important, Blaine. I really need to study." Kurt leaned up against the doorframe, his arms crossed indignantly over his chest.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt. I know how bad the workload can be here after coming out of the public school system. I just wanted to say thanks."

Well, he hadn't been expecting that. Kurt's face screwed up in confusion. "For what?"

"For being there on Saturday. I saw you at the competition. For glee club, I mean. And to be perfectly honest, I hadn't been sure that you'd gotten my note about it. But I did see you in the audience. I just didn't get the chance to say anything to you."

"Oh, um, you're welcome. I guess." A smile lit across Blaine's face, though Kurt noted that it wasn't as bright as it normally was. The other boy's eyes were fixed on the ground, and the silence stretching between them was starting to become uncomfortable. Kurt shifted a bit on his feet. "Um, sorry you guys didn't win."

"Yeah." He still seemed despondent, making Kurt edgy.

"But third place, that's pretty good, right?"

"Kind of. There were only six choirs." Blaine remarked with a light chuckle. "But then, we _did _do better than half the groups there, so that's something."

"See? Positive thinking. Helps every time."

"I guess so."

Blaine paused, biting his lower lip. Kurt frowned and looked back into his room, catching sight of his notes. He had mountains of homework and studying left to do, and this conversation was getting nowhere. He was starting to lose patience. "You look like you have something else to say to me, and I'm really not in the mood for guessing games today, so come right out with it and tell me."

"Oh. Yeah, sorry. Um, I just wanted to ask you about New Directions."

Kurt bristled. "What about them?"

"Why didn't you tell me that you knew them?"

"In case you hadn't noticed, Blaine, we're not exactly friends."

"But we could be."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Not this again."

"I saw how you were when you were with the members of New Directions, Kurt. They're your friends. Is that why you won't let me get to know you? Because you're ashamed of leaving them behind?"

Kurt backed off into his room, his face drawn into a scowl. "I think we're done here."

"I talked to Finn."

Kurt froze, his hand caught on the door. "What?"

"I talked to Finn. You never told me you had a brother. Well, stepbrother, but I guess that doesn't really matter in the end—"

"He didn't say anything about meeting you."

"Why would he? I'm just a guy from a rival team. A losing rival team at that. He's a sweet guy, though. Rachel's a little abrasive, but I guess she's not too bad either."

"Why the hell would you talk to them?"

"To congratulate them on their victory." Blaine paused momentarily to search Kurt's face. "And to gain some information about you." He figured that honesty would probably be the best tactic to keep Kurt from exploding and punching him in the gut. And it only made sense. From the little he'd garnered out of Finn over the remainder of the weekend, he didn't seem like the brightest bulb in the box—it would only be a matter of time before he told Kurt about meeting his 'friend from Dalton,' and honestly, Blaine was surprised that the other boy hadn't said anything yet.

Kurt blanched, his face shifting from a pale, sickly white to red as Blaine's words sunk in. "Why would you do that? That's—he's my _brother_. Is it really that hard to ask me whatever the heck it is you want to know?"

"Quite frankly, yes. It's really hard to ask you what your favorite color is, what kind of music you like, hell, even the name of the school you went to before transferring when you're daring in and out of doors. I want to get to know you Kurt, but you're so adamant against making friends here that I didn't really know what else to do. I can't read minds you know."

"And you thought talking to my stepbrother and his ex would make me sympathetic."

"No. Not at all. I expected you to get angry and defensive, which you are and have every right to be, but _come on_, Kurt. I learned more about you in a single email from Finn than in all my time of trying to talk to you."

"And what, exactly, did he say to you? Because those are going to be his last words, you can count on that."

"Nothing bad, Kurt. I just asked him if you like musicals."

"Wait, musicals? What does that have to do with anyth—"

"_Rent _is in town, and I managed to score a pair of tickets from my aunt. I wanted to know if you liked musicals because I was planning on asking you to go with me."

Kurt was speechless. His hand was starting to burn from gripping the door so tight, but he didn't dare let go for fear of falling to his knees. Blaine was still nattering on, oblivious to Kurt's distress.

"I mean, I could ask Wes to go because he's a real freak about this show, but he gets really irritating when we go to see things. Like, he comments on _everything_ when you're trying to pay attention, and—"

"Okay."

Blaine's rambling came to an abrupt halt, his eyes going wide in confusion. "What?"

"I said okay. I—I'll go with you if you still want to take me."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I love _Rent_," he said softly, looking down at his feet.

Blaine's face lit up. "Great! I've got tickets for Wednesday night, if you can swing that."

"Yeah, I think I could manage that." For the first in a long time, Kurt's mouth curved up into a smile, and Blaine couldn't help the overwhelming sense of relief that washed over him. The taller boy looked back into his room and caught sight of his neglected homework. "Look, I need to get back to work."

"What are you studying?"

"At the moment? Chemistry."

"I'm pretty good at that, if you need any help."

"You think a bribe with tickets to one of my favorite musicals is going to magically make us friends?"

"No, but I _am_ pretty good with ICE diagrams and that sort of thing. Just letting you know." Blaine looked back out into the hall. There were a few boys slowing making their way toward the stairs, probably off to dinner. Dinner sounded like a good idea. "So I guess I'll see you around, then," he said quietly, turning on his heel toward the stairs.

"Wait." He stopped and turned back toward Kurt. "Could you, um, could you stay? For a while? I could use a little help if you're willing."

"Sure." Blaine smiled as Kurt stepped aside and allowed him access to the room. "Let's see what I can do."

* * *

><p>Author's notes: Sorry for the wait on this. I should hopefully have more soon.<p> 


	14. Chapter 14

His heart was beating frantically in his chest, sending a terrible rush of blood to his head that made him blush and sway a little on his feet. This was it. Showtime.

Blaine raised his fist and tapped on the door in front of him, careful to avoid the whiteboard tacked to the wood. Its surface was meticulously clean around the sweeping green letters spelling out Kurt's name. His hands itched to trace the tips of his fingers around the writing, to mess it up and see if he could get Kurt to rewrite everything, though he wasn't exactly sure why. Something to do with whiteboards he guessed. At least Kurt hadn't bothered to decorate the damn thing. Had that been the case, Blaine wasn't sure he'd have been able to control himself. Some things were meant to be vandalized.

He took in a deep breath and looked up at the ceiling. The show started at seven, and they'd have to be there at least a half hour early if they wanted to find decent parking. And yet here he was, standing outside Kurt's door like an idiot, waiting for a boy who he was pretty damn sure only agreed to this for the free ticket.

_It's okay, Blaine. It's worth it. The glee club competitions were a bust, yes, but there's still the men's group exhibition around Christmas and the a capella contests in the spring. Plenty of chances for solos. Plenty of time to make this whole thing work out for the best._

He sighed and checked the time on his watch. He'd been standing there for three minutes. Maybe Kurt hadn't heard him knocking. He tried again, a little more force behind his hand this time. His eyes wandered back to the door, back to Kurt's name on the little whiteboard, and he studied the curved green lines.

The writing was nothing special. In fact, it was fairly sloppy when he leaned in closer to inspect it—the words drooped oddly downward as they went along, the end of the 't' in 'Kurt' just barely touching the top of the boy's last name, and it looked like Kurt had the nasty habit of using print for his capital letters. There were teachers who would definitely lower your grade for something like that. He did have to give Kurt a little credit, however: most public school kids (himself included) had to relearn cursive entirely when they got to Dalton (assuming they'd learned it at all in the first place), and Kurt's writing, though messy and frankly rather ugly, looked steady and sure, like he'd been using it for some time.

Blaine cleared his throat and straightened, casting another quick glance at his watch. Still no answer from Kurt. He was beginning to think that he'd been stood up.

Suddenly, he heard the faint clicking of locks sliding out of place, and the door swung open. He put on his best smile, hoping that his nerves weren't showing as badly as he suspected they were. Kurt was standing there in a simple grey sweater, its high collar folded neatly over his neck. Nothing fancy, but a welcome change from the dull monotony of the Dalton school uniform. Kurt looked different in casual clothes—not necessarily a new person, but definitely more at ease. He was almost attractive like this.

"Hey," the taller boy chirped quietly in greeting, shooting Blaine a half-hearted smile of his own. "I just need to get some shoes on, and then we can go, okay?"

"Yeah. Um, do you mind if I come in?"

Kurt cast a quick glance back into his room, his eyes flicking anxiously over the objects behind him. "I—"

"I won't touch anything. Promise. I'd just like somewhere to sit down besides the hallway floor." Laughter peppered his words. He didn't really need somewhere to sit, but he couldn't stand the thought of being caught in the hallway outside Kurt's door again. He wasn't sure he could live with the embarrassment of getting caught twice.

"Sure." Kurt stepped aside and moved back into the room, heading for his wardrobe where three pairs of shoes were lined neatly against the wall. Blaine walked inside, his hand dragging the door shut behind him. "Wait!" He stopped dead in his tracks, wondering just what it was he'd done wrong. Kurt's eyes were wide with panic, his breath fast and coming in harsh little pants. "Wait. Just—just leave it open. Please."

Blaine released the door, stepping away from it with his hands raised. "Okay, I'll leave it open, then."

"Thanks," Kurt said with a rush of air and left it at that, turning back to his shoes. Blaine ached for an explanation behind the outburst but left it alone. It wasn't his first time being inside Kurt's room—he'd helped Kurt out with his science work when he'd first offered him the ticket, after all—but the boy had been weird about leaving the door open then too. Odd, considering how protective the guy normally was about his privacy, but it made sense when Blaine thought about it, even if it made him uncomfortable. He _had_ been pretty creepy about approaching Kurt before, so trust issues were to be expected. Whatever. People already knew about him trying to get close to Kurt, so it didn't really matter in the end.

Blaine walked over to the empty bed on the other end of Kurt's room and sank down onto the neatly-folded covers. Kurt was stupidly lucky in that he didn't have to bother with a roommate. Not that he used the extra space—his sparse belongings barely occupied the area around the bed he seemed to prefer. It was like he was already packed and ready to leave at a moment's notice.

Kurt was sitting on the floor at the foot of his bed, his fingers moving deftly over the laces of the shoe in his lap. "Sorry I'm running so behind," Kurt murmured from his place on the floor, his eyes never leaving the laces in his hands.

"Mmm, what?" Blaine blinked, a little startled at the sound of Kurt's voice. "Sorry, I spaced out for a second there."

Kurt smiled and huffed out a breathy chuckle. "It's fine. I said I was sorry for making you wait. I lost track of time."

"Don't worry about it. There's still plenty of time before we have to be there." Blaine leaned back, stretching his legs out in front of him. "I was actually worried that you'd stood me up or something."

"This isn't a date," Kurt said firmly, his voice low and deadly serious. "Besides, I wouldn't have agreed to do anything with you short of tickets for _Rent_, so there's that." He slipped his shoe over his socked foot and swiftly tied the laces before picking up the other and doing the same.

Blaine winced. "Ouch. Am I really that bad?"

"Of course you are. I'm kind of amazed you hadn't figured that out sooner," Kurt replied without a single glance his direction. He pushed himself up from the floor and grabbed the hat and keys that had been laying on his bed. "So I think that's everything. You have the tickets?"

Blaine pulled out his wallet and dug through the main pocket, pulling out the folded piece of paper that confirmed their seats.

"You sure that's it? You're not tricking me, are you?"

Blaine held it out for Kurt to inspect. "Trust me, this is it. I promise I'm not tricking you."

"I have no reason to trust you." Kurt plucked the page from Blaine's outstretched hand, his eyes quickly sweeping across the page.

"You have no reason not to."

Kurt scoffed but said nothing as he folded the paper back up and gave it back to Blaine. He had plenty of reasons not to trust the other boy, but if Blaine couldn't see that, then there was no point in trying to beat it into his thick skull. He secured his cap firmly on his head, sweeping his bangs out of his eyes.

Blaine straightened at looked pointedly at Kurt. "So are you ready to go? We still have a little time if you need to—"

"No, I'm fine." He clutched his key a little tighter in his fist, sucking in a small, quiet breath as though he was unsure of what he wanted to say next. "Um, Blaine?"

"Yeah?" Blaine dusted off the tops of his thighs as he stood.

"Do you mind if I drive?

Blaine was a bit taken aback by that. He'd fully been expecting to drive them to and from the theater, but if it was an issue for Kurt…

"Just curious, but can I ask why?"

"No real reason. I just haven't really had the chance to go much of anywhere lately, and my dad let me take my car up here this week." His eyes were glued to the floor, like he was trying to look anywhere but at Blaine. Kurt was lying, but Blaine couldn't for the life of him figure out why.

He shrugged. "Sure. If that's what you want." He shot Kurt a cheeky grin. "But I thought the gentleman was the one who was supposed to do all the leg work on a date."

Kurt shook his head with a tiny grin of his own. "Then it's a good thing you're not a gentleman." He walked past Blaine out into the hallway, flicking the lights off as he went and plunging his room into darkness. "And this isn't a date."

* * *

><p>Author's notes: Sorry for the wait. I'm not sure I'm happy with this chapter, but it is what it is. I should have more soon.<p> 


	15. Chapter 15

Kurt led their way through the halls, his car keys clutched tight in his hands. They jingled lightly with his every step, the gentle tinkling of metal on metal not quite muffled by the skin of Kurt's palm. Blaine noticed that Kurt kept eyes locked firmly ahead of him and was doing his best to ignore the looks the two of them were getting. Blaine hurried along behind him, trying to match Kurt's pace. He really wasn't sure how to feel about this. Kurt had agreed to go out with him, and while it wasn't exactly a date, it was still something. He just wished Kurt would relax a bit to make this whole thing less awkward.

He sped up a little so that he was side by side with the taller boy and shot him a quick smile. "Hey," he murmured, trying to catch Kurt's attention, "cheer up, okay?"

"I can't," Kurt replied, his voice quiet but hard. "Everyone's looking at us." His eyes darted around the hallway, jumping from face to face as they walked.

"No, they're not." Well, some of them were, but Blaine wanted to alleviate as much stress as possible. This outing was already proving to be tense, and they hadn't even left the building yet. Kurt still had some of the new kid stigma, and he never really talked to anybody, so for him to be walking with anyone, let alone a Warbler, was kind of a big deal. Well, that and they were probably the only guys out of uniform right now, so they did sort of stick out. "Okay, maybe a few of them, but it is pretty obvious that we're going out."

Kurt stopped dead in his tracks and fixed him with a hard glare. "What do you mean by that?"

Now Blaine was seriously confused. What had he done wrong? "We're not in uniform," he answered as though it was the most obvious answer in the world. "That means we're leaving campus."

"Oh." Kurt deflated a bit and continued on his trek to the front doors. Blaine quickened his pace once more, scrambling to catch up to the taller boy. They pushed through the large double doors of the main entrance out into the cool night air. The lights lining the walkway illuminated the grounds with pale yellow light. The parking lot wasn't far; it was still pretty crowded. Almost no one bothered to go out on weeknights—it tended to be too difficult to go out anywhere and come back before curfew. Blaine was willing to risk it tonight. Kurt had agreed to go to this show with him, and he was going to make the most of it.

Kurt's pace had slowed now that there were no eyes watching them. The quiet scrape of their footsteps against the pavement seemed far too loud to Blaine's ears. "So," he began, "do you know where the theater is?"

Kurt shook his head. "No, but you do, I assume."

Blaine nodded, not really sure what to say. This was worrisome. At this rate, the most they'd end up saying to each other was along the lines of 'turn left at the light.' He swallowed, trying to bite back his building anxiety. He'd figure something out.

They approached a large black car near the middle of the lot, and Blaine was shocked at the quality of Kurt's car. As an ex-public school kid, he'd expected to see some sort of used, beat-up rust bucket, not…this. It was nowhere near as nice as some of the cars on the lot, but it was still nice and very well kept. "This is yours?" He couldn't keep the surprise out of his voice.

"Um, yes? Is there a problem with that?" Kurt unlocked the doors with the remote on his keys and climbed into the driver's seat. Blaine quickly followed suit.

"No, not at all," he replied, fastening his seatbelt securely over his chest. "This is a really nice car."

Kurt was quiet for a moment as he secured his own seatbelt and placed the keys in the ignition. The car came to life under his hands. "Thanks. It was a gift from my dad."

"For your birthday?"

"Yeah," Kurt replied, slowly pulling the car out of the lot. "When I turned sixteen."

Blaine chuckled a little and leaned back into the soft back of his seat. "You're lucky. You want to go straight ahead here.' He gestured at the street in front of them, indicating where Kurt was supposed to go. "My dad made me build my car."

"Build? Like restoring it?"

"Basically. He bought this beat-up old thing from a friend of his and thought that he and I would bond or something over it while trying to get it back into working order. We spent the entire summer after I turned sixteen working on the thing."

"So you're good with cars?" Kurt kept shooting him odd looks, like he was gauging Blaine's response to everything that was said.

"Oh god, no! My dad isn't that great with them either—I don't think we ever got the stupid thing to run more than twenty minutes at a time—but it was a project he wanted me to help him with, and we don't really do a heck of a lot together. Not since I came out, anyway." He leaned over toward the window and rested his cheek on his knuckles. "I think he might have thought us doing something 'manly' or whatever would turn me straight. You want to turn right at the light after this one. Just follow it around for a while. I'll tell you when we get close."

Kurt remained silent, his gaze fixated on the road. Blaine shifted a little in his seat and turned to look out the window. He hadn't meant to say anything so personal, and now he'd just made the whole thing really awkward. Great.

"What did Finn tell you about me?"

"Hmm?" He'd almost missed the whispered question, and when he looked back at Kurt, the boy was the same as ever, still fully concentrated on the road.

"What did Finn tell you about me?" Kurt repeated, a little louder this time. "You said you talked to him, and you know I like musicals, but that couldn't be all he told you about me. I know better. Finn's not like that."

Blaine thought back over his brief contact with Finn. The guy hadn't been the most forthcoming, nothing at all like Kurt was implying, but he had given Blaine some information. "Well, he told me that your parents got married earlier this year. That you like musicals and Lady Gaga, and you use large words that he doesn't always understand."

Kurt nodded, a small amused grin on his face. "That sounds like Finn."

Blaine looked across the cab and caught Kurt's smile. He breathed a silent sigh of relief and relaxed a bit. Kurt seemed a little more at ease now. Maybe opening up was the best way to approach this. "Um, he told me that you sang in New Directions before your transfer." He tried to catch Kurt's eye. "Do you still sing?"

The silence that fell over them was pervasive, and Blaine shifted uncomfortably in his seat. _Crap, I went too far, didn't I? I knew this would be a sore spot._ "Kurt?"

"No," he whispered, more to the road than to Blaine. "No, I don't sing anymore."

"Why not? Finn said you were really pretty good at it." Blaine kept pressing. Kurt had answered him, and now he was going to wring out as much information as he could. _Does it have something to do with why you're so distant all the time? _

"I—can we not talk about this?" Kurt's fingers had gone white, he was gripping the steering wheel so hard.

"Can we turn on the radio?" Blaine countered.

Kurt's eyes flicked downward to the dials, the little blue screen that was currently telling them it was almost six fifteen. His hesitation was written all over his face, but he really didn't want to continue this line of conversation. "Yeah. Yeah, sure. Whatever." He fumbled over the dials and the thin strains of music hit their ears.

_I feel sweet. Do you feel sweet? It's amazing._

He began to sing along, trying to fill in the silence.

_I have no skin, and I feel everything. It's amazing._

His face broke into a gentle smile as the music continued, and he closed his eyes, letting himself get lost in the sound. Music was good, familiar. It could make everything that was going wrong in his life disappear just like magic. And if he could pull this off and just get Kurt to open up to him a little then maybe soon he'd be able to share his love of it up on stage in front of a real audience instead of in the confines of his room or swaying in the back behind one of the other Warblers. Someday.

_I've wanted this for so long, and now the deed has been done._

He cracked his eyes open and chanced a look over at his companion, fully expecting to find Kurt more tense than ever. But that wasn't it at all. It was subtle, almost too small to see, but Kurt's lips were moving in time to the song, mouthing over what had to be half-forgotten words. _He was singing_. Not loud enough to hear, and he probably thought Blaine wasn't paying him any attention now that there was something to distract the two of them from one another, but he was singing nonetheless. Blaine's smile widened, and he closed his eyes again, hoping Kurt hadn't noticed him watching.

_I love life. I hope you do too 'cause I love everything. And it's amazing._

So Kurt did sing, just not when he thought anyone could hear.

Interesting.

_I understand when they say we're born again 'cause I've been born again._

_And it's amazing._

"Kurt?"

"What?"

Blaine shifted in his seat, straightening from his slouch. He could ask Kurt to sing with him, let him know that music wasn't supposed to be something to be ashamed of. If Kurt still wanted to sing, he should. Heck, it might even make him easier to relate to, more approachable. He opened his mouth to say so but found himself frozen at Kurt's pained expression as he stared out through the windshield. The yellow lights of the street lamps painted Kurt's face in fast-moving shadows and made his eyes shift back and forth from green to blue and back again.

He couldn't do this. Something was keeping Kurt from singing, something that the other boy seemed to want to overcome but couldn't just yet, and it wasn't Blaine's place to move him forward. Not now. Not yet.

He leaned forward and pointed toward the approaching intersection. "You're going to want to turn left here." Kurt nodded and changed lanes. He wasn't singing anymore.

The music played on unhindered.

* * *

><p>Author's notes: I don't know that I'm happy with this part. The song used here is "Amazing" by One Eskimo. I'm pretty awful at coming up with songs for people to sing in these things, but I think there'll only be one more bit with lyrics after this (maybe, maybe not; it's planned that way, but I haven't written it yet so that could be eliminated if it doesn't work), so if that's a bother in this story, it shouldn't be around much after this if at all. Hopefully more soon.<p> 


	16. Chapter 16

Author's notes: Sorry this part's a little late. I struggled so much with the dialogue here it's not even funny. I should hopefully have more up soon.

* * *

><p>The lights of the theater greeted them from the road as Blaine pointed out the entrance to the parking lot. Rows and rows of cars lined the way leading up to the building, and Kurt smoothly pulled them into an empty space near the back. He quickly twisted his keys out of the ignition, and the soft tones floating out from the radio cut short. He turned to Blaine, his mouth quirked up in the faintest hint of a smile, accented by the shadows thrown over his face by the streetlamps and the rim of his hat.<p>

"Well, then. Shall we?"

Blaine nodded and stepped out of the car. Tiny bits of gravel crunched under his feet as he walked around the back of the vehicle to meet up with Kurt. The temperature had fallen a little, and the chill was just this side of uncomfortable. He tugged his thin jacket close around his shoulders, hoping to keep out the cold for as long as possible, and he wormed his hands into the shallow pockets of his jacket to keep his fingers warm. It wasn't terribly efficient, but it was the best he could do for the time being. Kurt apparently had the same problem and was pulling the sleeves of his sweater over the tips of his fingers.

Kurt strode forward toward the building. He was walking far slower than he had back at campus, so it was much easier for Blaine to keep up with him. "Do you have the time?" he asked softly, his eyes never leaving the building up ahead.

Blaine lifted his wrist to his face and squinted at the tiny face of his watch in the dark. Nothing. He sped up a little until he was directly under one of the lamps lighting up the parking lot. "Six twenty-three," he called back, waiting for Kurt to catch up to him.

"And the show actually starts at seven?"

"Yeah. That's what the printout says anyway. It's better to be ahead of schedule than to arrive late, right? And our parking space isn't too bad." He looked out over the parking lot. They weren't exactly close in, but they were under a lamp pole, which meant finding the Navigator again would be easy.

Kurt nodded absently, and the two fell into silence as they walked. It wasn't uncomfortable, though Blaine certainly would have preferred to talk. They'd been quiet for too long already. "So, um, Kurt," Blaine began, trying to catch the other boy's attention.

"Yes?" The lights grew brighter as they drew near.

"Could you tell me—I mean…" He stumbled over his words, not quite sure how to put this, but he couldn't think of anything else to talk about. Might as well just get it out in the open now. "Why exactly did you transfer? If you don't mind me asking, that is."

Kurt's body stiffened at Blaine's words. "I don't want to talk about it," he spat out far too quickly, his tone holding no room for argument.

"Oh." Blaine tucked his chin down toward his chest. It had been worth a shot. "Well that's fine, I guess." He looked up at the dark arch of sky above them. The lights of the parking lot were blotting out most of the stars, but he could count a select few blinking in and out above them. Unless they were planes or something. He'd never been very good at telling the two apart on nights like this when he was so close to the city.

"I'm a transfer too, you know," Blaine remarked casually. His fingers twisted around the soft fabric of the inside of his pockets, belying his growing anxiety. He really didn't want to talk about this, but if it would get Kurt to open up and start talking to him, trusting him, then it was worth it. And he'd dug himself into this hole in the first place. Might as well make the most of it.

Kurt didn't say anything, though his eyes flicked over to Blaine in curiosity. No one had told him that. But then, it wasn't exactly like he went around the school asking for information on Blaine.

"I came to Dalton last year. At the beginning of the semester, unlike you, but still. It's kind of hard going from public school to private boarding school like that. Kind of like a form of culture shock, I suppose."

"You went to a public school?" He'd always figured Blaine for some sort of spoiled rich kid, but then again, looking at his casual clothes, the guy wasn't exactly decked out in designer labels. In fact, his outfit looked a lot more like something you'd find at a GAP or JC Penny.

"Yeah, I went to South High School. It's still in Westerville, but a lot closer to home than Dalton, that's for sure."

"Did you like it there?"

"It was okay, I guess. I had some good friends there that I still see from time to time." He smiled up at Kurt. "Kind of like you and the New Directions kids."

"I guess." Kurt went quiet. His eyes turned to the dark sky overhead for a brief moment before he locked his gaze on Blaine. "Why did you leave your old school then?" he asked quietly, his voice barely above a whisper, like he was afraid to ask. "You said it was closer than Dalton, and I know for a fact that it was cheaper, no matter where the heck it was. My parents gave up their honeymoon so I could afford to attend Dalton for the rest of the year and maybe next if they can't find a cheaper alternative before then." His words grew stronger, louder as he spoke, gaining conviction.

Blaine dug his hands deeper into his pockets. Little bits of fuzz and dust were trying to worm their way under his fingernails. He looked ahead. They were almost at the entrance. Why had he run away from his old school? "Because some people don't like having a queer around," he replied, his voice low and hard.

Kurt didn't respond. He waited for Blaine's inevitable line of questioning, his heart pounding madly in his ears. _So what's your story, Kurt? Why did you come running away to Dalton? _But it never came. Blaine was too lost in his own thoughts.

The large double doors of the theater greeted them, promising a respite from the cold. They quickened their pace and hurried inside. Warmth flooded their senses the second they stepped inside. "You have the tickets?"

Blaine pulled the folded confirmation paper from his pants pocket with a smile. "Of course. Contrary to what you might have heard about me, I'm not prone to losing things. And besides that, I don't really want to go back outside. Do you?"

Kurt returned the smile with a small shake of his head. They headed over to what had to be the ticket counter, where an attendant was directing a young couple down one of the twisting hallways of the building.

"Do you come here often?" Kurt asked as they walked. Apparently he hadn't wanted the conversation to die out either. It was kind of nice, almost like they were friends.

"Sure," Blaine replied with a shrug. "Not this theater, specifically, and I usually pay for tickets myself instead of pilfering them from my aunt, but I like to catch as many shows as I can."

Kurt nodded, satisfied with the answer, as they drew up to the desk. The attendant turned to them, her face lit up in a friendly smile. "Hello. How can I help you gentlemen today?"

Blaine unfolded the printout and handed it over. "We're here to pick up tickets on call for _Rent_ under the name 'Anderson.'"

"All right, let me see if I can get those for you." She turned to her computer station, her fingers quickly tapping in the information provided on the confirmation sheet. Blaine's stomach gave a nervous twist when the cheery blonde's face darkened into a frown. "I'm sorry, but there don't appear to be any tickets under that name."

"What? But I have the receipt."

The attendant simply shook her head and gave the pair a sympathetic look. "I'm really sorry, sir, but it looks like the card they were placed under was denied."

Blaine's heart was racing now. He shot Kurt a nervous look, only to see his companion's face drawn into a fierce scowl. Shit. _Way to impress him, idiot. _He cursed under his breath as he dug out his wallet and rifled through it for his own credit card. "Well, are there _any _seats left?" It was desperate, last minute, and very sure not to score him any points with Kurt, but anything was better than nothing at this point.

The attendant scrolled down and scanned over the information on the monitor before her. She shook her head again, and Blaine felt his stomach drop down to his feet. "No, sorry. Tonight's completely sold out. I can get you tickets for tomorrow night, though."

Blaine opened his mouth to respond, but Kurt beat him to it. "That won't be necessary. Thanks for all your help." He turned on his heel and headed back toward the door.


	17. Chapter 17

"Kurt, wait!" Blaine rushed to the doors, but Kurt was already outside, storming over toward the car. Blaine quickened his pace and called out again, trying desperately to catch Kurt's attention.

"Kurt!"

Kurt froze in place, and Blaine felt a surge of hope rise up inside of him. Kurt had heard him, was quite possibly giving him a chance to explain himself. He wasn't completely dead in the water yet, and really, it was more than he'd hoped for at this point. The sound of his footsteps echoed loudly in his ears as he approached the other boy. His breath puffed out in front of him in tiny clouds of white. The temperature must have fallen again. "Kurt? Look, I—"

Kurt was suddenly there, in his face, his finger jammed painfully into Blaine's sternum. His expression was dark and twisted with fury, and Blaine shrunk back, not sure what Kurt would do. "What the hell kind of game are you playing at, Anderson?"

"What? I don't know what you're—"

"You know perfectly well what I'm talking about," Kurt spat. He pulled back and crossed his arms firmly over his chest, his mouth twisted in disgust and his eyes flashing green in the lamplight. "What exactly were you trying to do? Trick me into going off campus with you so you could get me alone? Try and seduce me with free tickets to a show you knew you couldn't get into? Hope I'd fall for how pathetic you are when you're all out of options and there are no teachers around to report you to? I knew better than to trust you. _I knew better_, and yet here we are!" He threw his arms up in the air dramatically. The sleeves of his sweater were pooling toward his elbows as he grew more and more animated.

"_What_? No, I—" Blaine sucked in a deep breath to calm himself down. Someone needed to be the rational one here, and Kurt was far from that right now. And really, it was just his luck that something like this would happen. This was his one chance to impress Kurt, and he'd fucked it up, just the same as he always had. His hands were shaking, and he wasn't sure if it was form the adrenaline coursing through his body or the cold biting through his jacket. "I didn't know that the receipt was faulty."

"And you expect me to believe—"

"Yes, Kurt!" Blaine yelled back, cutting the other boy off before he could get in another word. He could feel heat bleeding into his cheeks, and his chest was growing tight. What he wouldn't give to be home right now, curled up in his room where he wouldn't have to deal with all of this nonsense. Solo or not, this was getting ridiculous.

"Yes, I do expect you to believe it because it's the truth. I got the tickets from my aunt as a gift almost a month ago. They're not on my credit card in any way, shape or form, and I had no way of knowing that the transaction didn't go through. It's not like I talk to my aunt every second of the day to keep tabs on her finances." This fiasco wasn't his fault. And it really wasn't fair that Kurt blame him for someone else's mistakes. "I asked you to go because I thought it sounded like something you'd enjoy, all right? Finn told me you liked this sort of thing, and I've been trying to get you to warm up to me for weeks now. I don't know what else I can do." He found himself deflating, his shoulders slumping in defeat.

"Why do you do this?"

"What do you mean?"

Kurt shrugged in frustration, as though the answer to his question were as obvious as night and day. "I mean this," he gestured widely at the parking lot and the building at Blaine's back before bringing his arms to rest against his chest once more, "all of this. Inviting me to sectionals, talking to my stepbrother about my likes and dislikes, asking me to come to this stupid play. Why do you do it? Why do you want to get to know me so badly?"

Crap. They were back at this again. "I already told you: because I like you."

"And I told you to leave me alone."

"I know that, but…" He trailed off and tilted his head back as far as it would go. This argument was getting old. Kurt had trust issues, that much was obvious, but this was fucking ridiculous. Blaine lowered his head and looked around the parking lot, at the gathered cars lined up in neat little rows, at the yellowed shadows thrown across the asphalt by the lamps above them, at the billowing clouds of his breath rising up before him. The chilled air was seeping into his bones now that the adrenaline was fading, leaving behind a deep chasm of exhaustion in its wake. "Look, I know you hate my guts right now, but it's freezing out here. Can we go someplace warmer to talk about this?"

Kurt shifted uncomfortably on his feet. The cold was starting to get to him, too, but the last thing he wanted to do right now was put more faith in Blaine. He cast a longing look back at the Navigator.

Blaine tried again. Kurt hadn't said no, so maybe he had a shot. "Can I, I don't know, buy you something to eat? Like, a burger or something? I do owe you for dragging my sorry ass all the way out here for nothing, after all." He smiled shakily, hoping Kurt would bite. Blaine was running out of ideas, and he seriously didn't want to have to call one of the guys to pick him up should Kurt decide to abandon him here. He'd never live it down.

Kurt rubbed his hands over his arms and sighed deeply. "What the hell," he muttered under his breath before turning to face Blaine. "I'm not going to get rid of you, am I?"

Blaine's smile was steadier this time around. "Probably not."

Kurt shook his head and let his arms drop to his sides. "Then fine. Sure. Whatever. Let's just get out of here." He turned around and started toward the car, not bothering to look behind to see if Blaine was following him.

* * *

><p>The diner was small and more than a little sketchy, but it was warm and open until the wee hours of the morning. Blaine gently cradled the mug of coffee before him, far more interested in gaining the feeling back in his fingers than the actual drink. Kurt had his chin perched up on one hand and was staring out the window at the abandoned parking lot outside, looking for all the world like he'd rather be anywhere but here. Blaine shifted nervously in his seat. They hadn't spoken a single word to each other once Blaine had pointed out the diner, and the silence was starting to get to him. Kurt had his hands wrapped up in the sleeves of his sweater, and his hat was slightly askew atop his head.<p>

"Kurt."

The taller boy's eyes dragged over to meet his, but he didn't say a word. His gaze seemed to burn right through Blaine, and he shrunk back a little in his seat. "We really should talk."

Kurt lowered his hand to the table, but his gaze didn't waver in the slightest. "All right. Talk."

Blaine let out a heavy sigh and ran a hand through his hair. "What do you want me to say?"

"I don't know. You tell me."

"Why are you so defensive?"

"Why are _you_ so thick?"

Blaine rolled his eyes and slumped back in his seat. Something hard under the seat cover was prodding him uncomfortably in the side. "Fine. I'll tell you all about me. Finn told me a little about you, so I guess that's fair." He paused, trying to think of where to begin. "My name is Blaine Elliot Anderson. I'm seventeen, gay and single. I sing tenor in the Warblers. I like musicals, fashion magazines and football. I have an older sister who's getting married next spring. I rather fond of birds, pancakes and playing the piano. My favorite color is red, but my mom hates it when I wear it because she says it clashes with my eyes."

"She's right, you know," Kurt mumbled quietly, his eyes fixed on his steaming mug of coffee. The corners of his lips were lifted in the first hints of a smile.

"About what?"

"Red." Kurt lifted his gaze, and Blaine found himself once again fixated with the boy's eyes. They weren't green anymore. More blue now. Huh. "It really would clash with your eyes if you like the brighter shades."

Blaine huffed out a breathy laugh in disbelief. Holy hell, this was _working._ Kurt wasn't yelling at him or retreating into silence. He was so happy right now he could cry."You really think so?"

Kurt nodded and cast his eyes up and down Blaine's figure. "For a boy who claims to like fashion magazines, you're not very fashion savvy, are you?"

"I'll admit that it's not one of my strong points, no. Good in theory, but not so much in practice." He leaned forward to grab his coffee once more, his smile broadening. "And I think the uniforms at Dalton haven't really helped in that regard. You know, since there's such a wide variety of options to choose from."

Kurt chuckled low in his throat, and Blaine felt himself relax. Yeah, the pseudo-date was kind of a disaster, but it had gotten him farther than anything else thus far. Kurt was smiling and laughing with him. Almost like they were friends.

This might work out after all.


	18. Chapter 18

Blaine couldn't have been more relieved when the bell sounded in the hall, the sound hitting the interior of the classroom like a bullet. Boys spurred into action with the shuffle of backpacks and the flutter of paper as it was shoved into binders as Mr. Jennings announced their homework and a reminder for the test they had next week over the ruckus, but Blaine had the feeling that very few people had heard him. But that wasn't important. The only thing he cared about was the fact that math was finally over for the day.

He quickly shut his notebook and grabbed his bag from the floor, hefting it onto his shoulder as fast as he could. He stumbled out from behind his desk and started for the door.

"Hey Blaine?"

Kurt. That was Kurt calling out to him. Blaine stopped dead in his tracks and realized that he was almost directly in front of Kurt's desk. The other boy was doing his best to keep his eyes turned downward, and his hands twisted over his pencil in an unending coil of motion. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

"Uh, sure." Blaine couldn't believe it. Kurt was willing to speak to him after the fiasco of last night. Yeah, they'd parted on good terms, but still, a bad date was a bad date (well, not exactly a date if he went by Kurt's terms, but it was damn near close enough). He shot a look toward the door and hesitated. "But are you sure you want to talk here? I mean, it's not exactly private, and there are a few kids from the next class waiting outside."

Kurt looked over to the door and grimaced. "You're probably right," he muttered quietly as he bent down in his chair to pluck his bag from the floor. He gathered his books to his chest and headed for the door. "We can talk in the hall."

He followed Kurt out of the classroom. The lithe boy didn't pause until they reached an area that was at least somewhat deserted. Blaine frowned in confusion. This was not really what he'd meant by 'private,' but any chance to get Kurt alone was good enough in his book. After all, he _was _on a deadline, and he hadn't even gotten Kurt to kiss him yet. Any chance he had now of garnering any sort of recognition among the Warblers was dwindling by the day. He'd take whatever he could get at this point. Kurt still looked nervous and maybe even a little annoyed. Blaine sighed. It was best to get this over with quickly. "Look, Kurt. If this is about last night, then I really am sorry. Like I said before, I didn't know those tickets—"

"What? No. No, this has nothing to do with that. Though you still owe me for that. Dinner at a cheap dive isn't going to cover it." Blaine opened his mouth to respond, but Kurt cut him off. "Which is why I wanted to talk to you, actually. I need your help."

Well, that was certainly unexpected. And this could be dangerous if he wasn't careful, but he needed to gain Kurt's trust. This was the perfect opportunity. "Help?"

Kurt nodded, but his hesitation was palpable. The silence stretched on between them for a moment before Kurt sucked in a deep breath. "I—do you understand any of the things we've been going over in math for the past week?" The words spilled out of his mouth in a sudden rush, almost too fast for Blaine to pick them apart. "I thought I knew what Jennings was talking about, but I got back my homework from the other night, and it seems that I have no clue what I'm doing."

Blaine blinked, trying to absorb what Kurt had just said. "Wait, you mean all that stuff about limits?"

"Yes."

Blaine thought about it for a minute. "Well, yeah. Yeah, I actually understood a lot of it. I mean, I'm still a bit shaky on some of the rules and things, but based on my grades on the last couple of assignments we've gotten back, I must have _some _grasp on the subject."

"Could you give me some pointers? I really can't afford to fail the test next week."

"Sure. I could do that." Wow, luck was definitely on his side right now. "When are you free?"

"Do you have a class third period?"

"Yeah. History."

Kurt swore softly under his breath and sucked his lip between his teeth in thought. "Well, how about—" He didn't get the chance to finish. The bell signaling the start of second period sounded loudly in their ears. "Now?"

Blaine shrugged, his face splitting into a wide grin. "Well, considering that now we'll get reprimanded regardless of whether or not we show up to class, why not?" He looked down the hall, quickly scanning for any teachers who might be wandering the halls, searching for wayward students. He looked back at Kurt. It was risky, but it was worth a shot. "Do you want to go up to the dorms?"

Kurt started, clutching his books a little tighter to his chest. "What?"

"The dorms. The librarian might not like us talking if we go there to study—the one who works there in the morning is kind of neurotic about it—and my roommate has class this hour, so we'd be undisturbed. We could head up to my room, and—"

"No." Kurt was breathing a little funny now, his eyes darting around the hall like he was looking for an escape. "I—no. Let's just go to one of the common rooms. I don't think there will be many people there right now. It's still kind of early."

"Okay," Blaine agreed. It wasn't ideal, but it would have to do. Kurt was probably right anyway; the common areas did tend to be pretty deserted before eleven. He smiled disarmingly, hoping the gesture might help to steady the odd beat of Kurt's breath. "Lead the way, then."

* * *

><p>"I just don't understand this, Blaine!" Kurt tossed his pencil onto the table and slumped back against the plush cushions of the couch. "What, exactly is the point of limits? They don't make any sense."<p>

"Well, as far as I can tell, their main practical uses are for population growth and radioactive decay. Like, determining when a population of animals or even people, I guess, gets too big for the area they're living in and when a certain chemical or whatever compound you're interested in gets so infinitesimally small that it's essentially gone, like with medication or hazardous waste."

Kurt rolled his head back and pointed a finger at Blaine. "And that right there is probably the reason why I'm so confused." He straightened and caught Blaine's gaze. "I've never been good at science."

"Really?" It was strange seeing Kurt so relaxed around him. It almost felt comfortable.

Kurt leaned back once more, closing his eyes as he raised his chin toward the ceiling. "Yes. Biology, chemistry, ecology, whatever. All of it. For the most part, it's completely lost on me. And don't even get me started on physics. That's like the product of math and science's illicit affair. Physics is their bastard son." He fixed Blaine with a look. "And that's why you should always use protection." Blaine snorted out a laugh, and Kurt smiled. "Give me English any day."

"Really? You like English?"

"Yes, I would have expected Finn to have told you that. It's no secret."

Blaine shook his head. "He didn't. And I didn't ask. He seemed pretty vague about a lot of the school things I asked anyway, so I went mostly to what type of music you listen to, your hobbies, things like that, and nothing too personal."

Kurt snorted. "I'm not sure I believe that."

"It's true. Just ask Finn for the emails." He wasn't stupid enough to press things too hard or too fast with Kurt's stepbrother. Digging for too much information at a time would probably tip someone off that he and Kurt had never been on the best of terms. Maybe that Rachel girl. She'd seemed pretty observant, which was probably the reason why her email address sat unused in that word document on his desktop.

"I might just do that." Kurt sighed and stared at the ceiling for a little while longer, letting the brief silence that had fallen between them wash over him, before turning his head to look at Blaine once more. "Do you know what time it is?"

Blaine plucked his phone up from the table and brought the screen to life with a flick of his thumb. Crap. It was almost time for the bell to ring. "Almost ten."

Kurt straightened in his seat and leaned forward to start collecting his things. "Wait, what are you doing?"

"The bell for the end of second period is going to ring any time now, and you told me earlier that you have a class then. I've already made you skip one class; I'm not going to ask you to do it again."

Blaine was silent for a moment as he mulled over Kurt's words in his head. He could just let Kurt leave and go about his day undisturbed, but then he would definitely be losing out on precious time with Kurt where the boy wasn't hissing venom at him. They'd even been somewhat friendly last night, and even a few times this morning. He couldn't let this go to waste. "What if I don't want to go?"

Kurt stopped. "What?"

"What if I don't want to go to History? As far as I know we're not doing anything important in there today, and contrary to what you might believe, I really do enjoy your company, Kurt."

"Well, that's a lie if I ever heard one."

"It's the truth." Well, mostly the truth. "You're an interesting person."

"Not really," Kurt sniffed. "I'm no more interesting than anyone else around here."

"Well, _I_ think you're interesting."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "And _I_ think it's interesting that you can't dress yourself when you're out of uniform."

"That was low."

"The truth hurts, doesn't it?"

"What's wrong with the way I dress?"

Kurt counted off on his fingers. "Your sense of color is a bit off, you don't seem to know how to properly layer an outfit, and, judging by how comfortable you seemed in what you wore last night, I'd say that you're used to clothes that don't fit properly."

"Then why don't you show me?"

"Pardon?"

"Show me what I'm doing wrong. I do have more than just that outfit hanging in my closet, and I know for a fact that my roommate has solid classes until fifth period when he has lunch. Why don't you show me where exactly my fashion faux pas lie?"

Kurt looked around the empty room, suddenly drawing back in on himself. "I'm not sure that's a good idea."

"Why not? I really do want to be your friend, Kurt, and friends tell each other when they look terrible."

"I think you have a warped perception of friendship. In my experience, it's mostly done the other way around to spare feelings."

Blaine let out a small chuckle. "I don't think you need to spare my feelings, Kurt. Besides, afterwards we can go shopping and pick out a few things."

"Shopping? You really have been talking to Finn, haven't you?"

"Then are you with me? I think we could both use a break from math, and missing one day of history class isn't going to kill me."

Kurt shrugged. "Sure. What the hell. A break sounds good right about now." He fixed Blaine with a pointed look. "But the door to your room stays open."

Odd request, but Blaine couldn't see the harm in it. "Sure. Whatever you want."

* * *

><p>Author's notes: Sorry for the wait on this. I'm currently writing five stories between two fandoms, and I've been kind of slow writing-wise. I should have another chapter of this up soon.<p> 


	19. Chapter 19

Author's notes: I'm terribly sorry for how long it's taken me to update. Real life has been extremely hectic for me as of late as I lost my job (and had to cram in hours before I did) on top of some family issues. Real life takes a priority to my internet activities, but I'd like you guys to know that I haven't abandoned anything. And now, onto fic.

* * *

><p>Progress. That's what this was: progress.<p>

Blaine smiled to himself and hitched the strap of his bag higher up on his shoulder. The main hall was a lot more crowded than he'd been expecting, but it was easy enough to get to the grand staircase leading up to the south dorms, even though he was going against the flow of traffic. Most of the boys he passed were probably on their way to the dining hall to get a head start on dinner. Blaine had certainly done that often enough, though he currently had something packaged up for later. Kurt still wasn't big on eating in the dining hall, no matter how much Blaine poked and prodded. Kurt still liked his privacy.

His smile widened at the thought of the other boy. Everything he'd done these past few weeks had been worth it. Kurt was opening up to him more and more every day, and they were, if he really thought about it, actually becoming something like friends. He started up the steps of the staircase, careful of the various shoulders and elbows that were jostling him toward the railing.

Kurt had called him maybe ten minutes ago, asking if they could study together. The kid was surprisingly bright, but science wasn't exactly his strongest subject. And Blaine was more than happy to tutor him. The more time they spent together, the more he found that he genuinely liked having Kurt around. He was quick-witted and a little abrasive when his guard was up, but he was surprisingly easy to talk to when Blaine found the right topic. Clothing and fashion trends were always good, and music was generally safe, so long as he didn't pry too much about why Kurt didn't sing anymore. New Directions could be a sore subject if Blaine wasn't careful, much like the topic of Kurt's old school in general.

Talking to Finn had certainly made figuring out just what to say to Kurt easier, and Kurt was slowly getting more comfortable with the two of them keeping in contact, even if it was his stepbrother and his odd semi-friend at school chatting (mostly) about him over email. They had a system worked out.

He hummed a light tune under his breath as he walked, one of the songs they were working on for their showcase coming up. Some of the jumps for his part were a little odd, and he was often just a tiny bit sharp on the last bit of the refrain. He needed to work on that.

"Blaine." Something was gripping his shoulder, and Blaine's heart shot up into his throat. He jumped a little at the sudden pressure on his shoulder and stumbled back, nearly losing his footing on the stair.

"Woah! Easy, B. I didn't mean to startle you." It was David. His hand held firm, keeping Blaine in place on the stairs. Blaine could hardly hear anything over the pounding of his heart in his ears.

"Oh, it's just you." He breathed in deep to calm himself and readjusted his bag. "What are you doing here? I thought you were going to eat with the guys tonight."

David looked down at the floor, his face twisting in discomfort. "Can we talk, Blaine? Like, in private?"

Blaine cast a glance around at the passing students as they flooded the stairwell. "Sure." He looked up toward the hallway leading to the south dorms. There was a common room there that should be pretty deserted, and it would get them off of the stairs. He gestured toward the hall above them with his shoulder. "We can go up the rest of the way."

"Actually, I was thinking that maybe we could go down to the practice room."

"Why?"

"Please, Blaine? It'll only be for a few minutes, I swear."

Blaine looked back up the stairs before turning back to David. The other boy typically had no qualms about conversation topics, no matter how taboo. He could chat about anything from the spaghetti they were serving for dinner to science class to sex without shame. It had to be something big if he wanted to go somewhere where they couldn't be overheard. He swallowed, thinking about the bet. That was probably it. Another progress report. "Yeah, sure. I mean, I'll have to text Kurt and let him know I'm running a bit late, but—"

"Awesome." David's grip loosened and he patted Blaine gently on the shoulder. "I'll see you down there, okay?"

"Yeah. Sure." Blaine was stunned, not quite sure what to think about this. His fingers tightened around the strap of his bag as he watched David walk away in the rush of boys headed to dinner and he swallowed, his heart suddenly racing in his chest. Something was up. Something that most assuredly had to do with the bet.

He made his way back down to the ground floor and flipped his phone out of his pocket, sending through a call to Kurt before he lost his nerve. There was only one muffled ring before Kurt's breathy voice came in over the speaker.

"Hello?"

Blaine smiled, momentarily forgetting his anxiety. "What have you been doing, Kurt? You sound like you just ran a marathon."

"How do you know I didn't?"

Blaine shook his head and shuffled away from the thinning crowd of boys passing him by. His heart was still beating way too fast for comfort. He really needed to calm himself down before he met up with David.

"Blaine? Are you still there?"

"Yeah. I'm here, Kurt. My mind wandered for a minute."

"You sure you want to study tonight, then? If you're getting distracted now then I'm a little skeptical about how well you're going to be after an hour of trigonometry."

"No, no, I'm fine. Sorry, it's just been a long day." He squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Um, about studying tonight, do you mind if we set it back a half hour? Something came up that I need to take care of real quick."

"Yeah, sure. Whatever you need. You know I'm not in any hurry to work on this stuff."

"Okay, so I'll see you in a half hour?"

"Yeah, I'll be here. Just don't be upset if I start in on my riveting chemistry homework before you get here."

"Why would I be upset about that?"

"Because you're odd. And I'm in the habit of forgetting what charges belong to what ion."

"Very true." Blaine sighed and cast his eyes up to the ceiling. He still wasn't nearly as collected as he'd like to be, but he'd dawdled long enough. "Okay, so I'm just going to go take care of this, and I'll see you in a bit."

"Sounds good. Try not to be too late."

"I make no promises," he said with a smile before snapping his phone shut.

The hall opened up before him like a challenge. He sucked in a deep breath and tightened his grip on his bag. He could do this. He'd gotten somewhere with Kurt. Not in a romantic sense or anything, but Kurt wasn't exactly the love 'em and leave 'em type, and Blaine's seduction techniques were probably too clumsy to have worked even if Kurt was. He was doing the best he could, and honestly, he was surprised that Kurt had given him a chance at all.

His footsteps echoed loudly in his ears as he made his way down the deserted hall leading to the practice room. No one was around this part of the school when there was dinner to be had. He found the right door and slipped inside.

David he'd been expecting. Since this almost assuredly had to do with the bet, he'd also expected Wes and maybe one or two of the other guys to show up, but when he walked inside and found every single Warbler present and accounted for, he knew that he was in it deep.

"Hey guys. Was there supposed to be a meeting today, and I just didn't get the memo?"

"Sit down, Blaine." Wes motioned toward the piano bench at the front of the room. His arms were crossed firmly over his chest and his expression was cold. Blaine edged over to the bench and took a seat, setting his bag down to rest at his feet.

"What's going on?"

"Blaine, you haven't been completely honest with us."

"Wait, you mean about Kurt? I know I'm not very far along, but I still have a few months to go. He's kind of a hard nut to crack."

"That's not what this is about."

"Oh." He looked about the room. Disappointment and anger were written onto nearly every face. "What is this about, then?"

"You've betrayed us, Blaine."

"What? No, I haven't."

"Our sources tell us that you've been fraternizing with our competition."

Blaine froze in his seat, trying to process the accusation. When would he have had the chance to talk to their competition? And what would he have told them besides? He opened his mouth to respond, but David cut him off.

"Rumors have been floating around that you've been in contact with members of the winning glee club at sectionals, the group from McKinley."

Oh. Crap. He _had_ been in contact with them, but not to share information about their set lists and routines. He swallowed heavily. "I—that's true."

The room went dead silent. Blaine's eyes dropped to the floor, and he wished the ground would just open up and swallow him. He closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath. "But it's not what you guys think. I only started talking to them after sectionals, and really just the one of them—the really tall guy, Finn. He's Kurt's stepbrother, and—"

"It doesn't matter, Blaine. Now all the a capella clubs in the area are just waiting for you to let something slip. We may not have done well in the glee club circuit, but among a capella groups? We're one of the best in the state. Do you know what this could do to us, Blaine?"

He couldn't answer them. Their eyes felt like bullets piecing his skin. They were going to kick him out of the group. He was going to lose his spot in the one thing he'd always been good at, the one place where he'd always felt accepted. His chest grew tight, and it was getting harder and harder to breathe.

Wes sighed and paced the room for a moment, as though he was trying to collect his thoughts before coming to a stop at the center of the room. "We came to a collective decision, Blaine, and I, as council president, have approved it. Your time limit for the bet has been shortened, and regardless of whether or not you complete it, you will not have a chance at a solo without audition. You now have until the end of January to complete the terms of the bet. If you fail, you will no longer be a member of the Warblers."


	20. Chapter 20

Author's notes: Hey guys. Sorry updates have been lagging. I've had problems offline that have sucked away a good deal of my time, and I've been dabbling in another fandom (yes, Glee, I've been cheating on you), but this story should actually be wrapping up fairly soon. Thanks to all of you who have continued to follow this, especially to those of you who have reviewed. You all are awesome.

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><p>Blaine's head was swimming. The Warblers filed out past him, some with an awkward good luck pat on the shoulder or back, some with little more than a dirty look. All too soon he was alone, lost in the silence of the empty practice room. Oh god, what was he going to do?<p>

His legs were shaking; they weren't going to hold him up for very much longer. He stumbled over to one of the crimson couches and fell back against the soft cushions. His bag fell from around his shoulder to the floor with a soft thump. January. He had until the end of January, only a few weeks after they got back from Winter Break, which was also coming up way too fast, to get into Kurt's pants and dump him before he lost everything.

Joining the Warblers was the one thing that had kept him sane after his transfer. Those boys were his _friends_, and they weren't ever going to talk to him again if he failed, were they? Betrayal was not an easy thing to get over, and he had betrayed them , hadn't he? Talking to, fraternizing with the competition, it didn't matter that he hadn't given Finn or Rachel any information on their set lists; he could have. He could have done it so easily, leaving them at a complete loss should the New Directions kids have decided to share the information, and all to get close to Kurt. All to get a stupid solo. His heart was racing in his chest, and he could feel his fingers going numb as his face grew hot. The corners of his eyes were tight and pinching with the pressure of tears budding up behind his eyes.

What was he going to do?

Kurt. He still needed to meet up with Kurt. They were supposed to study together.

He numbly dug in his pocket for his phone. His fingers slid off the warm plastic time and again as he dazedly groped for the device.

Somehow the phone made its way into his hands, and he could feel the muffled ringing of the call going through pulsing through his head.

"Hey, Blaine," Kurt answered, his voice light with amusement. Blaine was taken aback for a second before he realized that Kurt must have checked the caller ID. "Are you still coming up? The stuff Mr. Jennings gave us for tonight is really difficult. I hope you're prepared."

"Kurt." He trailed off, not quite sure what to say. _I need you to trust me. I need you to open up to me and spill all your secrets. I need you to love me._

_I need you to trust me so I can rip out your heart_.

"Blaine? Are you okay? You're awfully quiet."

He didn't want to do this anymore. Kurt was a good kid, smart, funny, nice enough when it counted, and Blaine wasn't sure he could go through with this. But he couldn't lose the Warblers. He couldn't just give up everything he'd worked for just to spare the feelings of this boy who just a few weeks ago wouldn't give him the time of day. He _had_ to do this. There was no other way.

And Kurt was just one kid, and they were teenagers. Sex wasn't a big deal. Blaine would be just another boy to forget in Kurt's past, nothing special. High school flings weren't meant to last anyway. He'd get over it. Eventually.

"It's nothing. I was just calling to let you know that I'm on my way up."

"Okay. I'll see you when you get here." And the line went dead. Blaine sat there for a moment, lost in the silence, before snapping his phone shut and pushing himself to his feet. Okay. He had until the end of January. That left him only a few weeks to do this if he couldn't get in touch with Kurt over Winter Break. He picked his bag up from the floor and sucked in a lungful of air to steady himself. He could do this.

It was only one kid.

Kurt would forget about him soon enough.

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><p>He didn't notice when the telltale scratching of Kurt's pencil stopped, when Kurt stilled in his work to stare at him. He's too distracted. A few boys streamed past the open door to Kurt's dorm room, chatting quietly about something. They walk by too fast to pick out much more than a few mumbled words and a laugh from one of them.<p>

"What's wrong with you?"

"Hmm? What?" He shook himself awake and looked up at Kurt. The other boy's face was drawn together in a frown. Things never went well for Blaine when Kurt looked at him like that. "What'd I do?"

"You're too quiet."

"And this is a bad thing?" He uncurled from where he was hunched over his homework on the bed opposite Kurt's and massaged the kinks out of his back. He'd been sitting like that for too long. "I'd think that that would be a pleasant change for you seeing as you're usually telling me to shut up," he said with a grin.

Kurt rolled his eyes. "That's because you're always talking to yourself about something or another, and it gets irritating sometimes, particularly when I'm trying to read. But seriously, you've barely said a word to me since you got up here. Does this have something to do with that errand or whatever you had to do that had you running late?"

Kurt was way too perceptive. Blaine swallowed and quickly fumbled for an explanation that wouldn't give him away, but his mind was drawing a blank. "A little." Smooth.

Kurt raised an eyebrow in irritation. "And…?"

"And what?"

Kurt flopped back against the headboard with an exasperated sigh, throwing his hands up in the air dramatically. "You are such a child! What's bothering you, Blaine? I might as well be studying alone with all the help you've been tonight."

"I'm just…thinking. About things."

Kurt narrowed his eyes, and Blaine could see his grip tightening on his pencil. "What sort of things?"

"Does it really matter?"

"Well, since I don't know how much work we're going to get done tonight, yes. Yes, it matters."

"I was thinking about Finn." It wasn't a total lie. Finn had certainly played a big part in this fiasco.

"Oh?" Kurt looked confused for a moment, studying Blaine's troubled expression, before his face softened into something of a pitying smile. "Blaine, I hate to tell you this, but Finn's about as straight as they come. He's never going to notice you. I should know. I kind of had a thing for him before our parents started dating."

"Oh." He tapped his pencil against his notebook for a second until Kurt's words finally sunk in. "Wait, what?" His head snapped up, and he locked eyes with Kurt. "You had a crush on your _stepbrother_?" That was news to him.

A blush crept up Kurt's neck to color his cheeks and the tips of his ears as he crossed his arms defensively over his chest. He probably hadn't meant to give that bit of information away. "And if I did?" he mumbled softly.

Blaine's face split into a wide grin, all thought of the Warblers and breaking Kurt's heart momentarily forgotten. "Seriously? You're not just jerking my chain are you?" Kurt remained silent, refusing to meet Blaine's eyes, and Blaine couldn't help but laugh. "Oh my god, that's priceless."

"Oh, shut up. It was _way_ before his mom married my dad."

Blaine's chuckles softened and he grew thoughtful. "I can see why you would, though. He is pretty cute, and he's got one of the nicest butts I've ever seen."

Kurt buried his head in his hands. His entire face had gone red by now. "Oh my god, we are not having this conversation."

"You started it, babe."

The room fell silent, all humor suddenly drained out of the sir. Kurt tensed from his spot on his bed, his entire body going stiff as the words hung between them, harmless and stupid, and why was Kurt looking at him like that? Kurt's eyes flashed with some emotion Blaine couldn't identify as they darted back and forth from him to the open doorway and back again. He almost looked scared, like he was frightened of Blaine. His breathing had certainly quickened and the blush had drained away from his skin, leaving him pale and shaking. "Blaine, I think," he said quietly before trailing off to catch his breath. Blaine could hear a tremor in his voice, and that worried him more than anything. "I think you should go," Kurt finished, so softly it was barely more than a whisper.

"Kurt, what—"

"Just go." There was a finality in his tone that left no room for argument.

Blaine silently gathered up his things and stuffed them into his bag. He was shaking, but he couldn't pinpoint why. Kurt's eyes hadn't left him since he'd started to move, and he felt trapped under the weight of the other boy's stare. He paused at the doorway and looked back at Kurt. He wasn't welcome here anymore. "I, um, I guess I'll see you in class, then."

Kurt didn't respond. He just sat there on the bed, watching him like a hawk, tensed and terrified of something Blaine couldn't even begin to fathom. He'd done nothing wrong, and Kurt was freaking out on him. It made no sense, but then again, almost nothing made sense with Kurt. Blaine stepped out into the hall, and the door almost immediately slammed shut behind him. He could hear the click of the lock fitting itself into place not a second later, and his stomach filled with dread.

He'd messed up. Again. And he wasn't even sure what the hell he'd done wrong this time.

His face burned with shame, and his hands balled up into fists. Fine. Whatever. He could deal with this. He tightened his grip on his bag and stormed off down the hall toward his room. Let Kurt be strange and moody all he wanted. Blaine was in danger of losing the best thing he'd ever had, and he wasn't going to let this temperamental teen steal it away from him, no matter how much he liked having Kurt around as a friend. He was too unpredictable anyway.

He had until the end of January or he was off the Warblers for good, and he'd somehow managed to get himself on Kurt's bad side again, though he still wasn't sure how he'd managed that one. He could get Kurt to trust him again. That part was easy. Stirring up romance was the problem, and he was running out of time. He needed to think up a plan of attack.


	21. Chapter 21

Author's notes: Apologies for the late update. I've been both ill (potential infection from a cat scratch, stomach flu, etc.) and distracted, so you all get an extra long chapter this time around. However, I want to let you all know that this story is almost at an end (only one or two chapters left), and I'd like to say thanks you all you guys who've followed this silly thing through. I need to start taking on stories that won't end up at 35,000+ words. I also tried to keep the song lyrics in this bit to a minimum; I'd been planning on putting in this song since something like the third chapter.

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><p>Time always seemed much slower in his French class. Kurt wasn't sure if it was the language itself or Mr. Langley's terrible accent, but he never failed to leave the class without craving a nap or at least a cup of coffee to wake himself up. It didn't help that the other boys in his class were always itching to leave for dinner. Kurt fought back a yawn, and the minute hand finally hit twelve.<p>

His classmates bolted from their chairs and hit the door running like a pack of wild dogs. Kurt hung behind, slowly stuffing his notes into his bag, letting the haze of sleep that had washed over him during class hide his unease at the boys brushing past him. It was always easier to hang around a little after this class to avoid the crowds headed for the dining hall.

He was jolted from his trance by the gentle tones of his phone going off. Someone was texting him. Probably Finn, but there was a chance it was Mercedes or maybe even his dad. He dug his phone out of his bag and stuffed it into his pocket before shuffling out of the room. Everyone else was too concerned with the promise of food to give him little more than a passing glance.

He slunk down the hall, careful to avoid as many people as possible, and pulled out his phone to see who was trying to contact him.

One new message, one little yellow envelope lighting up the screen. He slid his phone open and opened up the text. It was from Blaine. Not necessarily the person he wanted to talk to right now, but not really unwelcome either. They had barely said a word to one another over the past couple of days, and the loneliness was starting to get to him. Something like guilt twisted in his gut. The silence between them wasn't Blaine's fault. Not exactly, anyway. He opened the message and quickly scanned over the words.

_Do you know where the warblers practice room is?_

A bit of an odd question for Blaine to be asking since Kurt was nowhere near being a Warbler. Kurt frowned and tapped in his reply.

_Maybe. It's on the east end, right? Room 113?_

_115. Right next to it._

_Ok. So what about it?_

_Can you meet me there?_

Kurt paused, his thumbs hovering over the keys of his phone. Blaine wanted to meet him. In some room that Kurt was pretty sure he'd never been to. He felt his heartbeat quicken as he typed out a reply.

_Why?_

His hands were shaking as he waited for a reply. It came a lot slower than he'd expected, like Blaine wasn't sure exactly what he wanted to say. That could be troublesome.

_I have something for you._

Kurt froze. He didn't know what to do, what to say. The words ran through his mind on repeat, and he found that he could hardly breathe. Blaine wanted to meet him in a place with little foot traffic during dinner to give him something. After they'd exotically been fighting for almost a week. He swallowed. His heart was racing, and a terrible humming sound was filling his ears with static. He didn't know what to do.

His phone beeped again.

_I wanted to sing a song for you but i need the piano for it. This is the only place where i know dalton has one._

Oh. That sounded a lot like Blaine. Singing solved everything to him. Kurt felt himself deflating, but something was still gnawing at the back of his mind. This whole situation didn't sit right.

He bit his lower lip and looked out across the hall. It was completely deserted now, quiet and empty. He looked down at his phone, at Blaine's message staring back at him, and tried to figure out what to do. He and Blaine weren't on the friendliest terms right now, which was understandable. But this, this felt an awful lot like an apology even though Blaine hadn't really done anything wrong. Kurt had been the one to freak out. He'd kicked Blaine out of his room over such a little thing, and he'd done so without an explanation. He owed Blaine that at the very least, especially after keeping his silence for the past few days. Kurt could do this one thing for him. As grating as the boy could be sometimes, it had been nice to finally have a friend here.

He sucked in a deep breath and steeled himself before quickly tapping out a message.

_Ok. I'll be there in a few minutes._

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><p>The click of the door handle as he pressed it down was loud in his ears, echoing a bit off the halls as he peeked inside the room.<p>

"Blaine?"

The other boy was sitting at the piano. He spun around on the bench and gave Kurt a warm smile. "You came." He sounded mildly surprised. "I was afraid you wouldn't show."

Kurt stepped inside and looked around the empty room, keeping the door open just a crack. His hands never left the doorknob lest the thing shut and trap him in here with Blaine. He trusted the other boy but not enough for that. "Why wouldn't I?" he asked, still studying the room like he expected the whole thing to be booby trapped.

Blaine shrugged. "You and I haven't exactly been on the best of terms for the past couple of days."

Kurt turned to look him in the eyes. "About that, Blaine, I—"

"It's okay." He turned around to put his hands on the keys, but he kept his eyes on Kurt. "Can I play you something?"

"I—" Kurt looked outside to the hallway. No one was there. He knew that. But he owed this to Blaine. This song _was_ what he was here for, after all, and it was too late to turn back now. He swallowed and let go of the door. It swung shut with a soft click that Kurt could feel resonating throughout his whole frame. Blaine patted the space next to him on the piano bench.

"You can sit down if you'd like."

Kurt shuffled closer and grabbed one of the large wooden chairs that were scattered around the room, turning it around to face the piano about an arm's length from where Blaine sat. He laid his bag down at his feet, his eyes never once leaving Blaine. The other boy was openly staring at him, still smiling as much as ever, and Kurt felt his face light up in a blush.

"What is it? Do I have something on my face?"

"No." Blaine turned to face the piano. "It's nothing."

Kurt shifted about on his chair, shoving his hands under his thighs to keep his fidgeting to a minimum. Blaine's fingers danced over the keys, and Kurt felt himself smiling sheepishly as the notes washed over him. He knew this song. It was entirely wrong, but he didn't have the heart to tell Blaine to stop.

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><p>This was perfect. It had to work. Serenading was romantic, right? Blaine had always found it easier to express his feelings through music, and this was definitely a romantic song. It had to do <em>something <em>for Kurt. He opened his mouth and let the music flow.

_It's a little bit funny, this feeling inside._

_I'm not one of those who can easily hide._

He looked over at Kurt as he went along, his fingers moving almost of their own accord. They knew this song by memory now anyway. All that practicing had been worth it.

_You can tell everybody this is your song._

Kurt was blushing; a faint hint of pink had crept up his neck to stain his ears and what little Blaine could see of his cheeks with color. He turned back to the keys and allowed himself a tiny congratulatory smile.

Perfect. This was working. Kurt couldn't turn him down now.

_I hope you don't mind. I hope you don't mind that I put down in words_

_How wonderful life is while you're in the world._

Blaine took his time making his way through the song. Everyone was off at dinner, and the Warblers weren't practicing tonight. He had all the time in the world. He looked up at Kurt and found the other boy staring back at him, his blue-green eyes fixed on his face. Blaine went on autopilot, praying the words didn't get stuck in his throat. No one had ever looked at him like that.

_So excuse me for forgetting these things I do._

_You see if I've forgotten if they're green or they're blue._

Funny how well that applied to Kurt. The boy's eyes never seemed to be the same color when Blaine looked at them. He hadn't thought of that when he'd chosen this song.

_Yours are the sweetest eyes I've ever seen_.

He made his way through the rest of the song, letting the last notes linger in the air for a while before letting out a heavy breath and turning to Kurt with a grin. He'd done it. There was no way Kurt could resist that. He had this in the bag. "So, what did you think?"

Kurt looked at the floor. "It was nice."

Nice? That was the best he could do? Blaine clenched his teeth and fought back the urge to explode. "Just nice?"

Kurt looked up at him and shot him a smile, but it felt too much like pity. Blaine felt heat rising up at the back of his neck. Great. He'd just humiliated himself for nothing.

"Look, Blaine, you're a nice guy and all, but I don't see you like that."

"What do you mean?"

"I just want to be friends. Nothing more."

Just friends. _Just friends_. No, no, no, no, that wasn't going to work. Not unless they tacked on a 'with benefits' at the end of that label. Otherwise Blaine was screwed, and Kurt didn't really seem the type for casual sex. Hell, he was barely one for casual_ conversation_. Blaine swallowed and tried to figure out his next move and fast. Kurt was shifting about in his chair like he was making to leave, and honestly, Blaine couldn't blame him. He rather wanted to sink down into the ground in embarrassment himself. Kurt bent down low like he was reaching for his bag to leave.

"Why won't you give me a chance?" Blaine blurted out. Oh god, that was whiny, wasn't it? But he was out of options at this point. He'd messed this up too many times already to fail again now.

Kurt looked up and their eyes locked. "Blaine, I—"

Blaine stood from his seat and began to pace across the floor, waving his arms in frustration. "I don't know what else I can do." He stilled and looked Kurt in the eye. His desperation must have been showing through because Kurt wasn't moving anymore. "I really, really like you, Kurt. What is it about me that's so repulsive? Am I ugly? Do I smell?"

"No, Blaine. You're fine."

"Then_ what is it_? What am I doing wrong?"

"Nothing, Blaine. You're doing nothing wrong. It's me. I don't—I _can't_ be in a relationship right now."

Blaine deflated, feeling his anger drain out of him faster than water through his fingers. "Why? Why won't you even give me a chance?" If he was going to have to forfeit the bet, if he was going to have to give up everything he loved and all of his friends, he wanted to at least know why.

Kurt fidgeted a little in his chair, refusing to meet Blaine's eyes. He looked an awful lot like he wanted to run, but should he take the opportunity to do so, Blaine wasn't going to give him the chance. He was closer to the door than Kurt was; he could easily cut him off if he tried to escape. He needed an answer, and he needed one now.

Kurt seemed to curl in a little bit around himself. "I, ah." He sucked in a shaky breath and looked Blaine directly in the eye. "Blaine, something happened to me at my last school."

Blaine walked back over to the piano bench and sank down onto the smooth surface. "What do you mean?"

Kurt released his hands from under his thighs and ran his fingers through his hair with a heavy sigh. "I…" He was shaking. Blaine felt his throat go tight. "I was attacked. By another boy at my school."

Blaine was confused. He understood bullying. Bullies were the reason he was here at Dalton, but this made no sense. "What does that have to do with dating?"

"Blaine, I was raped." His voice was deadly soft but firm. Blaine felt his mouth go dry, and his heart dropped down into his shoes. He didn't know what to say.

Kurt was smiling gently now, but it was shaky and painted with a hurt Blaine couldn't put a name to.

"You're a nice enough guy, Blaine, and I'm sure there's someone out there who'd love to date you, but I'm not him. I'm not ready to trust anyone like that just yet, and I don't know that I ever will be."


	22. Chapter 22

Author's notes: Okay, guys. So we're finally at the end. Thanks to all of you who have stuck through with this, even through my terribly slow updates. Hopefully my next project won't take me as long to finish.

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><p>Silence fell over them like a shroud, and Kurt could feel the edges of his frayed nerves giving way the longer it stretched out between them. He looked at Blaine's face, trying to read his reaction. There was nothing. He was a blank slate of shock. That didn't bode well. "Blaine?" Say something. Oh god, please say something.<p>

Blaine stared dumbly at Kurt as the information finally set in. "Wait, you…at your old school?"

Kurt shifted uncomfortably in his seat. His hands were curled into tight little fists atop his lap, and his eyes had trained themselves back on the floor. "I really don't want to talk about it," he whispered before pulling in a deep breath to steady himself. "It's not something I want to revisit." This wasn't working out at all. He groped for his bag and hoisted the strap onto his shoulder, shooting Blaine a quick smile as he stood to leave.

"I can't be with you that way, Blaine. Not right now, in any case. But I do still want to be your friend. I mean, if that's all right with you, of course. I know things can get kind of awkward when friendships and romance coincide—I had a friend crushing on me last year for a while, and she's one of my best friends now, but if you don't think you can do that it's okay too. I know I'd find things kind of awkward if I were in your position, and I won't hold it against you if you decided not to stick with me." Kurt was babbling and he knew it, but he was running out of ideas for what to do. Blaine was just sitting there, staring at the ground like he'd been hit with a ten ton sack of bricks. Kurt glanced at the door, his panic rising. "Blaine?"

The shorter boy suddenly choked out a laugh of disbelief, and Kurt flinched at the sound, adding in a nervous chuckle of his own after a short while. His eyes darted back to the door as he slowly inched away from his chair. "Okay, so maybe I'd hold it against you a little, but that's just me," Kurt joked, trying to break the tension.

Blaine refused to look at Kurt. He could barely see anything anyway past the red haze now coating his vision. Every gulp of air he took felt far too heavy in his lungs, and his breath was sitting inside his chest like a weight. He couldn't breathe. It was like he was drowning without water. "I—" He swallowed, his voice catching in his throat. "I'll think about it."

"Okay." Blaine could see Kurt's shoes at the edge of his vision, shuffling about like he was getting ready to run. He couldn't blame him, but couldn't get his throat to work. "Okay," Kurt tried again, moving out of Blaine's reach. "I'll, um, you have my number and stuff if you want to reach me, and I guess I'll see you in math class." Blaine didn't respond. He had nothing to say. Kurt quietly slipped out into the hall, shutting the door behind him with a soft click. Blaine still couldn't move.

Kurt, who didn't like to be touched. Kurt, who had suddenly transferred into a private school with one of the strictest anti-bullying policies in the county for reasons unknown. Kurt, who couldn't stand be alone in a room with a boy if the door wasn't open. Kurt, who refused to sing because it probably reminded him of everything that had been taken from him. Kurt, who had finally opened up and trusted him with this.

He was a rape victim.

And Blaine had been trying to humiliate him through sex.

He felt something twist up in his gut, and he felt the sudden urge to claw at his hair. He'd been trying to seduce and manipulate a rape victim because of a stupid bet with his teammates. What the hell kind of person did that make him?

_A desperate one_, a little voice in the back of his mind sang. _You have everything to lose if this thing doesn't pan out. Your friends, your security, your music._ His throat tightened. With the exception of the threats and outright hostility, it would be exactly like his old school. Completely isolated. No one to turn to. He felt his hands begin to shake, and he desperately wanted to throw up. Maybe then he wouldn't feel quite so sick, and he could figure out what to do.

He could always lie; say that Kurt had gone along with it, and he was successful in breaking his heart. That might work. Except that a lot of the guys were nothing if not thorough. They'd see through him eventually, and then things would really go to shit.

He could forfeit the bet, quit the Warblers because there was no way he could seriously go through with this now. But then there'd be nowhere left for him to go. He wasn't really athletic, not enough to consider joining one of the teams. It was a little late for that anyway. And his _music_. He'd be completely without his music unless he convinced Mr. Yamada that he was good enough to play backup piano for the orchestra kids for competitions. He wouldn't be able to sing at school anymore unless he wanted to get shoved around in the showers. Oh god, what was he going to do?

He dropped his head into his hands, grinding the heels of his palms into his eyes until he saw red, and tried to even out his breathing. He needed to calm down. Maybe then he'd wake up because this wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening. His life wasn't this messed up. It wasn't.

* * *

><p>It only took a few days of avoiding Kurt for the other boy to start looking haggard. Blaine watched him in class and when he passed him in the halls. Kurt had always looked so put together before Blaine broke off their friendship, but now it was obvious something had rattled him. He still avoided the dining hall as he always had, but now he couldn't even be seen in the library or much of anywhere outside of his room if he wasn't on his way to or from class. It would be so easy for Blaine to lie, walk up to David and the others and say that this new behavior was entirely his fault (it was, if he really thought about it, but not in the way it was supposed to be). He could do it. Winter break was right around the corner, and there would be no time for them to verify his story. It would be so easy.<p>

Blaine stumbled into his room, thankful for the short reprieve the end of classes left him. He had Warblers practice tonight for the first time in nearly a week. Finals were almost upon them; practices had slowed down around this time last year too.

He sighed and flopped back down onto his bed. He wondered if anyone had noticed Kurt's odd behavior, if they would want a progress report. His eyes wandered over to his phone. It was mocking him with its silence. He hadn't talked to Kurt since the practice room. Maybe it was for the best, even if it left the boy without a single friend here.

People didn't need friends.

He stared up at the ceiling and studied the cracks in the paint, trying to will away the swirling thoughts rushing through his head. Everything was so messed up. He wanted things to go back to the way they'd been before. Before Kurt. Before this stupid bet. He closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath, his mind running over his options one last time.

Okay. He knew what he was going to do. He flung his arm out to the side and grabbed his phone from where it lay. His fingers quickly tapped out a message to Wes, and he sent it off before he lost his nerve.

* * *

><p>It was only fitting that he was the last to show up. He pushed open the door to the practice room to find every single Warbler already there, some grinning like they'd just won the lottery, others looking more than a little put out, their voices flitting all throughout the room. Wes was counting money over by the piano. He looked up and smiled at Blaine as he walked in.<p>

"And there's the man of the hour." He stood and threw his arms open. "Blaine, how are you?"

"Fine." His eyes went to the money still clutched in Wes's hand. "What are you doing?"

"Dividing up the spoils. Thad over there made out like a bandit, though I can't say the same for Jon."

"Oh." Blaine nervously eyed the boys scattered throughout the room. No one was looking at him funny, but it felt like they could see right down to his soul. He swallowed. "Uh, Wes, I actually—"

"Blaine!" He flinched as David's arm suddenly found itself draped around his shoulders. The taller boy hugged him tight to his side with a laugh. "I knew you had it in you. So, how was he? Was he good? I bet a frigid guy like that is a total tiger in the sack. Girls like that usually are."

Blaine unwound himself from David's grip. "I…I have something I need to tell you guys."

The chatter died down, and Blaine felt every eye on him. David was still grinning like a mad man. Blaine could hardly hear a thing over the harsh beating of his heart.

"What is it, Blaine?"

"I, ah…"His eyes swept over the gathered boys, over every excited face, and he breathed in deep to calm himself. Okay, he could do this. "Guys, I didn't do it."

The room went dead silent. Blaine had known this was going to happen. He swallowed around the hard knot that had formed in his throat.

"Wait, but that's not right. Blaine, your text said 'it's done.'"

"I know. Guys, I can't—Kurt…I couldn't do it. I can't go through with this." He looked up and locked eyes with Wes. The other boy's face was as hard as stone. "I'm sorry, but I can't do it. I'm forfeiting my status as a Warbler. I'm sorry I let you guys down."

The silence lingered. Blaine took in one last breath and turned on his heel for the door, leaving behind some of the best friends he'd ever known. _It's okay_, he told himself over and over. _It's okay. You're gonna get through this._

_People don't need friends._


End file.
